Between the Lines
by Kitschisme
Summary: On hiatus, for the time being. Bella starts a new job as a writer at a prestigious Seattle newspaper. Sparks fly when she meets an attractive, brooding stranger who enters her life in a most unexpected way. BPOV, OOC, AH. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies! **

**I've been in the mood lately to write a longer story, and I just can't seem to get this idea out of my head for some reason. This will serve as the first chapter, and I'll add other chapters as I go along. I don't have the whole plot figured out yet, but I have a pretty good idea of where I want to go with it. **

**The whole thing will be written in Bella's POV. The characters will be slightly OOC and AH.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

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_"Is not general incivility  
the very essence of love?"_

_- Jane Austen_

BPOV

"Shit, shit, _SHIT_!" I screamed in my head. I was going to be late for work… _again_.

If it had been another day, _any_ other day but today, I would have considered this a relatively common occurrence. It was not unusual for me to oversleep or forgot to set my alarm. I could be considered scatterbrained at best in my natural state.

But today was _not _just any other day. It was _the_ day – the one for which I had been preparing for months, years even. I finally had the chance to leave my job as lowly copy editor behind and move up the ladder as a writer at the Seattle Sun. Today could very well turn out to be the most important day of my life – it was the interview of a lifetime.

An interview for which I was about to be very, very late.

It did not help that the shoes I was wearing were entirely impossible; the surface of the icy sidewalk clashed dangerously with the thin stiletto heel of the deep blue satin pumps. I would _kill _Alice for forcing me to wear these insane death traps - in the middle of winter, no less! I tried desperately to move forward, but only felt as if I were squirming in place. My movement was severely constricted by the skin tight black pencil skirt Alice had insisted that I wear. It felt very uncomfortable, as if I were wearing a full body condom or something equally as ridiculous. But I knew I would receive zero sympathy from my pixie-haired best friend - In the world of Alice, there was no sacrifice too great for the sake of fashion.

She'd kept me up late last night, pestering me with wardrobe decisions while I tried to work on my portfolio – _tried_ being the operative word.

"Isn't this a bit unnecessary?" I'd complained. "I mean, I'd like to think that these people will be judging me based on my writing, not how cute my outfit is."

She sighed, her expression exasperated. She came to stand in front of me, gripping my shoulders tightly. My eyes widened as she shook me violently with her tiny arms. "Bella, do you want to be a successful writer?" I nodded mutely. "Well, then you need to dress the part! You want to be _memorable_."

I'll admit, she had a point; but I didn't exactly want to be "memorable" because of two broken ankles, either.

I suddenly felt my phone vibrate inside my purse. I absentmindedly dug around in the enormous bag - I was far more concerned with not falling at the moment. After several seconds of rooting around, my fingers closed around the small buzzing object. I pulled it from my bag, and the name _Alice_ flashed across the screen. _Ah, speak of the she-devil…_

I flipped my phone open and held it to my ear.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

I groaned inwardly. How could anyone be _that_ enthusiastic so early in the morning?

"Hi, Alice."

"_So_, did you have your interview yet?" She was still bubbly. I could picture her practically bouncing with excitement.

"No," I answered, glancing at my watch, "and I'm probably going to be late. These shoes are _ridiculous_."

I heard her sigh dramatically into the phone. "It's _you_ Bella, _not_ the shoes." I could picture her martyred expression.

"Sorry, Alice."

She sighed again, softening a bit. "It's alright, you just need some practice."

I almost laughed out loud at the thought of willingly putting myself through this ever again.

"I want those back, by the way… _intact_," she added. "I'm going to wear them Friday night."

I was only half listening to her as I struggled to cross the street. I filled in my side of the conversation with what I hoped were genuine sounding _uh huh's_ and _yeah's_.

"Are you coming over tonight?" she asked as the conversation drew to a close.

"Definitely. I'm assuming that I'll need some wallow time after I successfully _botch_ this interview."

"You'll be great, I know it," she reassured me. "Good Luck! I'll see you tonight."

"Okay, bye," I replied, and snapped the phone shut.

I sighed, and turned to replace my phone inside my bag. As I did, my foot came down at an awkward angle on the pavement, directly onto a slick patch of ice. My foot lost traction with the ground as my ankle twisted sickeningly, and I yelped as an excruciating pain shot up my leg. I felt my body lurch backward, and I lost my grip on my purse and my portfolio, both of which flew up into the air. I squeezed my eyes shut and tensed my muscles, preparing myself for impact with the hard, frozen ground.

It never came, however. I kept my eyes squeezed tightly shut, fearing the worst. Why wasn't I in pain? Had I fallen and broken my spine? Was I paralyzed?

I opened my eyes slowly, carefully, and was stunned to find a pair of sparkling emerald eyes staring down at me. I gasped as I studied the face that went along with those eyes: a narrow, angular nose offset by perfect, high cheekbones and a strong, masculine jaw line; deep, gorgeous eyes framed by a set of warm bronze lashes which matched the color of his soft, tousled hair. My breath caught in my chest. Who _was_ this person? I had never seen anyone so beautiful.

I blinked, and suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that this gorgeous stranger was the only thing holding me above the ground. His strong arms wrapped tightly around me, fully supporting my weight. Suddenly, he spoke.

"Are you alright?" he murmured. The velvet tone of his voice shot an unexpected thrill through me.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, disoriented. I struggled to straighten myself, and he let me, but the throb in my ankle flared painfully. I stumbled forward, directly into his chest. He caught me by the arms and steadied me.

His brow furrowed. "Are you sure? It looked like you twisted your ankle pretty badly."

He was right, of course. But I forced myself to ignore the pain in my ankle, which was getting worse by the second.

"I'm fine," I stated firmly.

Something akin to annoyance flashed in his emerald eyes. He was obviously the knight in shining armor type. Well, that was unfortunate, because I refused to be the damsel in distress.

"If you say so," he replied skeptically.

As the fog in my brain began to clear, I realized that the ground was littered with the contents of my purse, not to mention the pages of my portfolio, which were now strewn across the wet, frozen street. I groaned, and bent to pick them up. The stranger helped me, and although I was reluctant to accept his help, I was grateful for it. He picked up a few of the scattered pages, and I was horrified as he began to scan his eyes across one of them. Despite the fact that I read other people's writing for a living, I considered my own writing to be very personal. I rarely let strangers read my work.

"This is quite good," he noted. He almost sounded reluctant to admit it.

My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. "Thank you," I murmured, to the ground rather than to him directly.

He noted my embarrassment and changed the subject abruptly. "Why do you wear shoes like that, anyway?" he snapped, nodding toward the satin heels. "They're dangerous."

"Well," I defended, "I don't usually wear shoes like these…"

"I can tell," he muttered.

Anger flared in my chest. What was _that_ supposed to mean?

I straightened then, my purse and portfolio in hand. I continued to ignore the throbbing in my ankle.

"Well, Thank you for your assistance, Mr. ---"

"Cullen," he replied, extending his hand toward me. "You're welcome, Ms. ---"

"Swan." I took his hand, and was immediately eager to release it. An inexplicable spark of electricity shot through me at the feeling of having his skin on mine.

"Well, Ms. Swan, you ought to be more careful. Try watching where you walk next time; sometimes it helps."

Resentment flared in me again. I raised my chin defiantly.

"Thank you," I replied coolly. "I'll try to remember that."

He smirked, and then stalked past me without another word.

I stood frozen for a moment, unable to move. I realized suddenly that I was trembling, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

I had never felt such resentment before… or, as much as I _hated_ to admit it, such attraction.

I turned and stared after him as he strode away from me in the same direction I had been traveling.

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**A/N: Did you like it? I really hope so.**

**Show me how loved I am by sending lots and lots of REVIEWS! I want to know if you guys would like me to continue the story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I didn't get as many reviews as I would have liked for the last chapter, but hopefully I'll start to get more feedback once the plot picks up a bit. To those of you who did review – THANK YOU! You guys are the best.**

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BPOV

I hobbled pathetically along the sidewalk, willing myself to ignore the throbbing pain in my ankle. There was a part of me, the weaker part, that wanted to give up right then and there. _To hell with the interview_, I thought. Nothing, not even my dream job, could be worth this torture. There was another part of me, however, the more stubborn side, that refused to let me quit.

Ten immeasurable blocks and one very swollen ankle later, I reached my destination. Staring up at the towering skyscraper, I suddenly felt incredibly insignificant. My heart was pounding wildly, as if I were on the verge of a full scale panic attack. I was already over twenty minutes late – what if they refused to see me? And even if they did agree to see me, what would they think of my writing? The thought of coming this far only to be turned away was unbearable.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a deep, calming breath. I had made it this far - I was _not_ about to give up now.

As I limped through the lobby I was suddenly awestruck by my surroundings. The opulent wood and marble pillars that perfectly complemented the building's classic vintage architecture were unlike anything I had ever seen. The feeling of insignificance began to set in again, and I started to get the feeling I was in way over my head.

"Don't be a coward," I muttered to myself.

I took the elevator to the 37th floor. As I stepped out I was met by a large reception desk situated under the famous _Seattle Sun_ masthead. At the desk sat a young, blonde receptionist. Even from a distance I could tell that her clothes were of designer brands, tailored precisely to fit her body like a glove. The overhead lights glinted off of her unnaturally straight and white teeth. Her perfectly manicured nails were painted a classic tomato red.

As I got closer, however, it was easy to see that this woman was anything but _classic_. Dark roots peeked out from beneath her fake gold tresses. Her skin had an unnatural orange tint to it – undoubtedly the result of frequent trips to the tanning bed. Her eye makeup was dark and heavy. She reeked of cheap perfume and cigarettes.

I approached the desk, waiting for her to look up at me, but her attention was otherwise engaged. She stared at her nails contemplatively, watching as the light reflected off their glossy surface. She babbled rapidly into her desk phone, which was cradled between her chin and the groove of her shoulder. She seemed entirely unaware of my presence.

"_Oh my god_, I was _so drunk_," she drawled into the phone.

I suppressed a groan. This could take a while.

"All I can remember is how terrible it was . . . _officially_ the _worst_ sex I've ever had."

And this was _officially_ a waste of my time.

I cleared my throat loudly.

Her eyes flashed to my face, her expression irritated. She mumbled something into the phone and lazily replaced it upon her desk.

"_Can I help you_?" she sneered.

"Yes, I'm here to see the editor." It came out sounding more like a question than a statement.

She rolled her eyes. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes," I replied, barely hiding the tremor in my voice. "My name is Bella Swan."

She picked up the phone then, and dialed.

"Mike, there's a woman here to see you," she said into the phone. She listened to the other line for a few seconds before hanging up and turning back to me.

"This way," she sighed, rising from her seat.

I followed her down a long, narrow hallway to a door marked _Michael P. Newton, Editor in Chief_. She knocked briefly, and a loud "_Come in!"_ echoed from inside.

The office was ostentatiously decorated with an enormous desk flanked by strange, exotic looking plants. There was a black leather couch against the far wall, which was covered with numerous diplomas and certificates.

The man sitting at the desk was surprisingly young, undoubtedly close to my own age. He was not entirely unattractive; dressed in a nicely tailored two piece suit, hair combed neatly. There was something about his face, however, and his small, close-set eyes that made me feel immediately distrustful of him.

He rose from his seat, smiling warmly at me. "Well, hello."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sir," I said, extending my hand.

"The pleasure is all mine, Ms.--"

"Swan."

"Please, have a seat," he offered, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" interrupted the blonde.

"No. Thank you, Jessica. That's all for now."

She smiled and winked flirtatiously at him before exiting and closing the door behind her.

"I'm sorry to be so late, Sir. I had a bit of trouble getting here."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Please, call me Mike," he insisted.

I smiled, but it didn't quite reach my eyes.

"So, Miss Swan, you'd like to apply for a position here?"

"Yes, I'd like to be a writer."

He flashed a patronizing smile. It was as if I could literally see his thoughts scrolling across his forehead on an obnoxious flashing marquee: "_Little girl comes to the big city and wants to be a writer. How cute."_

Resentment burned in my chest. Anyone who denied the existence of gender discrimination in the workplace had obviously never tried to be a journalist.

"I see. And you were a copy editor in your previous position, correct?"

"Yes."

"Well, I could probably start you off in the same position, and we'll see how it goes from there."

Crap.

"With all due respect, I was under the impression that this job would be a . . . _promotion_ of sorts. I'm trying to move forward with my career . . . as a _writer_. I've brought my portfolio for you to look through."

I leaned forward to hand him the large manila folder. As I did, the deep V neckline of my sweater fell loosely from my chest. I did not miss the way his eyes lingered there. They traveled down the rest of my body, stopping only when they reached the pointed tip of Alice's blue satin heels. He licked his lips, gazing at me as though I were something to eat.

I fidgeted uncomfortably in my chair.

He took the folder, and placed it to the side on his desk without looking at it. "I'm sure we'll be able to . . . work something out."

My resentment flared again, but I worked hard to keep my expression neutral.

"So," he said, leaning forward. "What do you say? The position is yours if you want it."

I was conflicted, but I already knew what my decision would be. This was the job offer of a lifetime. Working for the _Sun_, even as a copy editor, would look fabulous on any resume. If I could reach my goals by working for this disgusting chauvinist pig, then so be it. Sometimes you have to take a risk.

"Yes," I blurted out. "I accept."

"Excellent," he cried, clapping his hands together.

My stomach plummeted through the floor._ Was I going to regret this?_

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in!" he called.

The door opened, and I heard soft footsteps approach from behind.

"I have those proposals for you," said a soft masculine voice. The sound of it gave me the strangest feeling of déjà vu.

"Edward," Mike said, gesturing to me. "Meet Ms. Swan, the newest addition to our staff."

I heard a sharp intake of breath. I looked up, and felt as if a train had hit me head on.

Bronze hair, emerald eyes, and flawless bone structure.

_Un-freaking-believable._

Edward Cullen gaped at me, his expression twisted in shock and confusion. His eyes flashed down to my right ankle, which was now severely swollen and bruised. Recognition dawned upon his gorgeous features, and when he looked up again he was smiling wryly.

"And does _Ms. Swan_ have a first name?"

My knees shook as I stood to face him.

"Bella," I said in the calmest voice I could manage.

His lips curved into a crooked smirk, as if my name were funny to him for some reason. His face was a mask of sarcasm, but his eyes remained inexplicably gentle.

He took one step forward and extended his hand to me for the second time that day. I took it, bracing myself for what I knew I would feel when he touched me. He looked directly into my eyes.

"Well, Bella…," he murmured, "Welcome to the _Seattle Sun_."

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**A/N: DUN DUN DUN!**

**Come on, you must have seen that coming ; )**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm sorry these first few chapters have been so short. It's difficult for me to write long chapters with so much other stuff going on. I **_**am **_**a full time student, after all. It's kind of a problem when I spend more time writing fan fic than working on my honors dissertation : /**

**The plot will pick up and the chapters will start to get longer very soon, I promise! I'm going to do a lot of writing over the weekend. I'll be working on this story and on another story I'm co-writing with my bestest buddy, Rosette-Cullen. Get excited. I know I am.**

**Oh, and by the way, I decided to just number the chapters since I suck at titles : p**

**Thanks for reading!**

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BPOV

I lounged on Alice's sofa, my ankle propped up with a pillow on her coffee table. The pillow's fabric was soaked from the condensation on the bag of frozen peas we had used as a makeshift ice pack. The swelling in my ankle had gone down considerably, but it was still a bit tender to walk on. I limped slowly down the hallway to her tiny kitchen, where I replaced the bag of peas inside her freezer. I grabbed a pint of Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk and brought it back with me to the couch.

Alice was perched atop the arm of the couch, speaking rapidly into her cell phone in what could almost pass as fluent French. Her cell phone had become less of an accessory lately and more like an actual appendage fused to the side of her head. Alice's boutique, for which she had taken out a loan to open after college, had always featured unique vintage pieces. Within only a few years it had become so popular that she was now importing rare designer gowns from around the world. It was the perfect career choice for her – as long as I'd known her, she had always been the most fashionable one in the room. Even now, as we lounged in our pajamas eating ice cream, she seemed just as comfortable in her lace trimmed silk camisole as I felt in my ratty t-shirt and old gym shorts from high school.

I shifted my attention back to the television. _Gone with the Wind_ was playing on the classic movies channel. Alice had squealed with delight upon this realization and insisted that we watch it - she was a sucker for a good romance.

I watched as Clark Gable pursued the ever-stubborn Vivien Leigh. Unlike most women, I truly sympathized with her character – Rhett Butler was handsome and charming, yet so incredibly irritating at the same time. I wished that he didn't remind me so vividly of someone I knew…

What was _with_ Edward Cullen, anyway? I was beginning to think he had a multiple personality disorder. His erratic mood swings left me reeling and confused. I would never have thought it possible for one person to be so intensely alluring and so infuriating in equal measure. On the other hand, as much as I wished I could ignore it, there was still the inexplicable attraction between us. I could not deny the electric charge I felt every time he touched me, or the thrill I had experienced this afternoon when he said my name for the very first time; his soft, velvety voice wrapping around it like a caress - _"Bella… Bella…"_

"BELLA. EARTH TO BELLA!"

I flinched. Alice had resumed her spot next to me on the couch.

"What's got you so lost in thought over there?" she inquired as she stole my spoon and took a bite of ice cream.

I sighed. "Oh, you know… I've just been thinking about the interview."

She raised her eyebrows. "Over analyzing again, are we? I thought you said it went well." Her comment was phrased innocently, but I could sense the motivation behind it; she was onto me. Nothing - and I mean _nothing_ - got past Alice. We had been friends for so long that our conversations bordered on the telepathic.

"Well… it did. I mean, I got the job and everything. I'm just not incredibly fond of my new _Editor in Chief_," I said the words with disdain.

Alice nodded her head slowly, ruminating something in her mind. She swallowed another bite of ice cream. "So, what's his name?"

"Mike Newton."

She rolled her eyes. "Not _him_. Whoever this other guy is who's got you all hot and bothered."

Damn, she was good.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Alice."

She rolled her eyes again. "_Come on_, Bella. You know I'm going to figure it out eventually."

She was right, of course. "Edward Cullen," I sighed.

Alice smiled approvingly. "_Right_, the guy who saved you. Is he good looking?"

"He did not _save_ me" I spat, utterly repulsed by the idea. "And… yes. He is insanely good looking," I admitted reluctantly.

"So you like him, then?"

"NO!" I blurted out too quickly. Alice's smile widened. "I mean… maybe. I don't know."

She waited patiently for me to continue.

"I mean… he's… a coworker! Plus, he's really not my type," I lied.

"And why not?" she demanded.

"He's got some sort of 'Knight in Shining Armor' complex," I seethed, my anger rising to the surface.

Alice stared at me blankly. "I don't really see what the problem here is, Bella."

How could I explain myself to her when I couldn't even explain myself _to myself_? I struggled to find the words that would maker her understand. Finally, I gave up.

"He's just… so… _pushy_!" I exclaimed.

Alice grinned. "He sounds perfect for you."

I stared at her incredulously.

"Hate to break it to you, Bells, but you yourself tend to be on the stubborn side. You could use someone to keep you in check."

I was not hearing this. I slouched down into the couch, my arms folded obstinately across my chest.

"You know I'm right," she insisted.

I stole the spoon back from her, stabbing angrily at the semi-melted ice cream.

"Ridiculous," I muttered under my breath.

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**A/N: So I was thinking about making a soundtrack/playlist for this story. Would you guys like that?**

**REVIEW, porfavor.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter took me several days to write, but it's a long one, so hopefully you guys will be pleased!**

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BPOV

Monday morning came far too soon for my liking. For the first time in perhaps my entire adult life, I woke before my alarm had sounded. My sleep that night had been restless as I nervously anticipated my official first day on the job. I rolled over onto my side and groaned when I saw the clock - it was 6 a.m. Realizing I was too jumpy to go back to sleep, I got up with a sigh and headed to my bathroom.

I decided to use the extra time to take a bath, knowing it was the only thing that could relax me when my nerves were so on edge. I turned the water to hot and added some bubble bath. I undressed as the tub filled with water, my tiny bathroom clouding with warm steam and the strong scent of freesia.

I dipped in one toe to test the water's temperature - it was scalding, but I liked it that way. I stepped in carefully, and slowly slid down until my entire body was submerged. I clenched and then relaxed each of my muscles, starting with my toes and moving up to my shoulders. After I had soaked for a good twenty minutes, I unplugged the drain, wrapped a towel around myself, and stepped out.

I brushed my teeth in slow, precise circles. I even flossed, something which I had done maybe twice in my life. I applied my usual makeup regimen; just foundation, black mascara, and a dab of rose colored gloss. I shook out my now semi damp hair so that it fell in loose waves down my back.

I padded down the hallway barefoot, still wrapped in my towel. I stood in front of my bedroom closet, trying to figure out what to wear. I sighed, exasperated. There were times when I wished Alice and I were roommates so she could always make these decisions for me. I chose a simple deep blue cotton blouse, professional black slacks, and a comfortable pair of flats. I headed to the kitchen, but soon realized that I was too nervous to eat. Despite the fact that it was only 7:30, I grabbed my coat and purse and headed out the door.

--

I arrived at the office early, around 8. As I headed through the lobby I was struck again by that same insignificant feeling, but I had more difficulty shaking it off this time. Truth be told, I was starting to doubt my own capabilities. Newton hadn't even so much as glanced at my writing – had he only hired me because of the way I looked? The thought of it made my spirits sink, but I convinced myself that it didn't matter. Regardless of why he hired me, I was determined to prove myself in the end.

I walked past the reception desk where Jessica was seated. I smiled politely at her, but she merely glared in response. I sighed. It was going to be a long day.

I walked into the newsroom for the very first time, and immediately felt overwhelmed. Despite the fact that it was early, the room was already buzzing with activity. Staff members scurried to and fro, phones rang off the hook, and the hum of rapid voices caused the atmosphere to literally vibrate with tension.

Multiple cubicles were spread out across the floor, two people to each. I walked toward the one with my name printed in small letters on the outside. As I approached, a man with sandy blonde hair looked up from his desk. He pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled warmly at me, as if we were already lifelong friends. He stood from his desk, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"You must be Bella," he said, his voice cordial.

"I am," I replied.

"I'm Jasper." He freed one hand and extended it toward me.

I grasped his hand, and immediately felt my nerves begin to settle. There was something about Jasper that made it impossible to feel anxious near him.

"Nice to meet you," I said shyly.

I glanced around the cubicle then, and my eyes went immediately to the desk I knew was mine. I took an eyeful of the mountainous stack of papers that was already piled on top of it.

Jasper put a hand on my shoulder. "Breathe, Bella."

I exhaled deeply, unaware that I had even been holding my breath. Jasper chuckled.

"Don't worry," he said. "I know it's overwhelming at first, but you'll catch on quickly. How about I give you a tour of the place?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. "That would be great, thanks."

I followed closely behind Jasper as he led me through the newsroom. I noticed from the corner of my eye that Edward Cullen was seated at the cubicle next to ours. He was staring intently at the papers on his desk. I got the impression he was trying very hard not to look at us.

"Well, for starters, I'm on politics beat," Jasper said, gesturing to himself.

"This is Emmett McCarty," he continued, gesturing toward the bulky, dark haired man seated in the cubicle next to ours. "He writes the sports column."

Emmett grinned widely. "Hey, rookie!" he called to me. I smiled shyly in return.

"And you already know Edward, of course," Jasper said. It looked as if he were trying to contain a smile. "He's Managing Editor, so he's in charge of assigning story ideas for each issue. He's basically your immediate supervisor."

I suppressed a groan.

"And this," he said, gesturing toward a gorgeous blonde seated a few cubicles over, "is Rosalie Hale, our resident health and beauty expert." She looked up and smiled politely at me.

"It's going to be distracting having so many lovely ladies around the newsroom," Emmett announced, but he grinned widely and winked at me to show he was only teasing. The moment was ruined, however, as Mike Newton approached from behind us.

"I agree with Emmett," he said, placing his hand possessively upon the small of my back. "You ladies are _very_ distracting."

My body shot up ramrod straight, a deep blush covering my cheeks. Jasper made a revolted noise in the back of his throat. Newton stared back at him, challenging him to interfere.

"Bella," he said lightly, still looking at Jasper, "be a dear and go put some coffee on in the break room."

I wanted to say no, but I was too flustered to even speak. Newton turned on his heel and headed in the direction of his office. The blonde named Rosalie shots daggers at his back with her eyes while Jasper glared murderously toward his retreating form. He shifted his gaze back to me after a few seconds.

"You don't have to do that, you know," he said gently. "It's not part of your job description."

I took a few deep breaths to get my temper under control. "No, it's okay," I sighed. "I'll do it."

I headed toward the back of the newsroom, passing Edward's cubicle as I went. He still did not look up from his desk or acknowledge my presence, but I noticed that he looked incredibly tense; his jaw was clenched furiously, and his fists were balled so tightly into fists that the skin over his knuckles turned white.

It took me a few minutes to find the break room, and when I did I sank unsteadily into a nearby chair. I was literally shaking with rage. I wanted to cry, or scream, or throw something at least. I grabbed the coffee pot, filled it with tap water, and shoved it into the coffee maker with so much force that water splashed over the edge. I tossed a few unmeasured scoops of coffee grounds into a filter before angrily flipping the "on" switch. I leaned against the counter, attempting to calm myself. I didn't want to make a scene on my very first day.

I headed back to my cubicle, and almost fell over from shock when I discovered Edward Cullen seated at my desk. Terror streaked across Jasper's face when he saw me. He looked down into his lap, as if ashamed of himself. I was momentarily confused. Then my gaze shifted to Edward, and I saw the large manila folder in his hands.

_My portfolio_. Had he stolen it from Newton's office?

Under normal circumstances, I probably would have only felt annoyed. Unfortunately for Edward, I was already in an incredibly foul mood.

"What are you _doing_?" I could hear my own voice shaking.

"I told him not to," Jasper muttered.

Edward shot him an annoyed look, and then turned to smile disarmingly at me. "Just trying to see if I was right about you," he replied cryptically.

My curiosity flared. To see if _what_ was right about me? I ignored his comment, however.

"Those are _personal_," I said through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize." He didn't sound sorry at all.

"Give them _back_."

"When I'm finished," he stated simply.

"_Now_," I hissed dangerously. My temper was beginning to boil over.

He rose from my desk chair then, and came to stand in front of me. "Tell me something," he demanded. "Why did you go into journalism as your chosen field when it's obviously not your strength?"

I glared fiercely at him. I was so furious I almost felt surprised that my gaze wasn't physically burning him.

"These creative pieces are brilliant," he said continued, handing me the folder. "I don't understand why you haven't tried to get them published." Normally I would have been flattered by such a comment, but I was far too angry to feel grateful toward him. It was none of his business, anyway.

"Maybe it's because they're _personal_."

"You didn't seem to mind _Newton_ reading them."

Did I imagine the hint of jealousy in his tone?

"That's different," I snapped. "I wanted this job, so I included them in my portfolio. That doesn't mean I want other people to read them."

"What are you so afraid of?" he demanded.

"I am not _afraid_," I enunciated each word distinctly.

"I beg to differ."

I realized suddenly how very close I was standing to Edward; we were toe-to-toe, our faces mere inches from each other, his emerald eyes boring intensely into my chocolate ones. My brain suddenly became very fuzzy, and I was irrationally overcome by an urge to close that distance between us.

Whoa. Where did _that_ come from?

I was still struggling to think of my retort when Newton stuck his head out of his office and shouted, "STAFF MEETING IN FIVE MINUTES!"

"After you," Edward murmured, jerking his head toward the boardroom.

I glared at him before I turned. I could feel him following close behind me.

We all filed into the meeting room, each of us taking a seat around the long, rectangular table at the center of the room. Newton took his seat at the head of the table, Edward directly to his left.

"Alright, everyone," Newton said, "we're here to discuss the next issue. I'll yield the floor to Edward so he can assign your stories."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Edward stood, and cleared his throat.

"Jasper," he began, "you're covering local elections."

Jasper nodded once.

"Emmett, football season."

"SWEET!" Emmett boomed. Edward smirked infinitesimally.

"Rosalie, plastic surgery exposé."

She grinned, satisfied.

He paused for a moment, as if he were finished, but then he spoke again.

"Bella," he said softly.

Had I just hallucinated? My head snapped up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.

Shock must have been painted across my face, because Edward smirked. "I'd like to do an editorial piece on gender discrimination in the workplace, and I want you to write it."

Everyone's gazes shifted to me, while my gaze stayed fixed on Edward. I stared at him incredulously, my mouth hanging open.

"Hold on a second," Newton interjected. "Bella's not a staff writer, Edward. She's new, and she's just a copy editor. I really don't think--"

Edward cut him off. "Bella doesn't need to prove herself, Mike. She's already a fantastic writer - you would know that if you'd looked at her portfolio."

An awkward silence fell over the boardroom. I shrank down in my seat.

"Mike, you and I both know that the quality of writing at the _Sun_ has been sorely lacking. Our ratings have gone down significantly in the last year. If they go any lower we'll start to lose profit, which means decreased salaries for everyone. Is that what you want?" Edward demanded.

Newton gaped at him, speechless. Unlike the dissidence he had shown earlier toward Jasper, he cowered pathetically from Edward's piercing gaze.

"That settles it then," Edward concluded. "Bella will write the piece."

He shifted his gaze to me, then. "You'll still have to fulfill all of your editing duties in addition, of course," he added.

I nodded mutely.

"Well, that's all I have," he concluded, resuming his seat.

There was a deafening silence for a few long moments.

"Meeting adjourned," Newton croaked hoarsely. "Edward, a word in my office," he muttered before storming out of the boardroom.

Everyone else got up to leave the table, but I stayed glued to my seat. I watched Edward as he began gathering his things. He stared pointedly at the table, intentionally not meeting my gaze.

"You didn't have to do that," I whispered.

"Do what?" he asked flatly, still not looking at me.

"You don't have to do me any favors; I can pay my dues."

"I didn't do it for you." He put particular emphasis on the word _you_. "This paper needs good writers, and you meet the necessary qualifications. It was nothing."

His voice was so cold and detached that I almost believed him, but somehow, deep down, I understood his true motivations. I was caught off guard by the sudden gentle tug I felt on my heartstrings.

"It _was_ something," I insisted, "to _me_."

He looked up at me then, and his eyes were filled with some emotion so complicated I couldn't even begin to decipher it.

"Just don't screw it up, alright?" A small, crooked smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

I smiled back, despite myself.

* * *

**A/N: Hmmm… what could possibly happen next? More drama is on its way, I assure you!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I know a lot of people are anxious to get to the lemon, but it's not going to happen until the end. I know, I know. But trust me. Your patience will be rewarded, I promise!**

**That being said, this will be the last chapter of plot build up before we get to the really good stuff. Something BIG is going to happen in the next chapter. Keep an eye out for it!**

* * *

BPOV

My first week at the _Sun_ flew by in a haze. No one could have prepared me for the sheer magnitude of work I would be faced with. I found myself in a constant state of stress, arriving at work ridiculously early and working insanely late into the night.

Words could not describe how happy I was that it was already Thursday. I thanked my lucky stars that it was so close to the weekend; I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take before I had a nervous breakdown.

I was at my desk, pounding furiously onto my keyboard when I noticed a streak of black flash out of the corner of my eye. I turned in my chair, and found Alice's tiny face peeking around the side of my cubicle. She was grinning deviously.

"Surprise!" she exclaimed.

As usual, I was blown away by Alice's meticulous perfection. Her hair was in its usual spiky disarray, like a dark crown around her breathtakingly ethereal face. Wispy bangs fell across her forehead, framing her wide, hazel eyes. She straightened herself then, and I saw that she was dressed to the nines in a stylish black wrap dress paired with vibrant yellow patent leather heels. Her body, as usual, looked amazing. The three inch stilettos significantly lengthened her petite frame, while the sash of her dress accentuated her tiny waist. She was thin in the extreme, almost androgynous, yet still soft and feminine in her features. She looked like a model straight out of European Vogue.

I couldn't help the big smile that spread across my face. I had never been happier to see my best friend.

"What are you doing here!?" I exclaimed.

She bounced on her toes with excitement. "I wanted to see if you were interested in having a lunch date!"

"Alice, you're a lifesaver. I _need_ to get out of this place for a while."

Alice waited patiently while I gathered my things and put on my coat. I realized, suddenly, that I had neglected to introduce her to my cubicle mate.

Jasper was hunched over his desk, muttering quietly to himself. He ran his hand roughly through his shaggy blonde hair, something I noticed he did when he was stressed.

"Jasper," I said.

No response.

"_Jasper_."

Again, nothing.

I plucked a balled up piece of paper from my desk and threw it at him.

He looked up from his desk, confused. "Sorry Bella, did you say something?"

"Jasper," I said again, "I'd like you to meet my best friend, Alice." I gestured toward where she was standing.

Jasper spun around in his chair, prepared with his usual welcoming smile. When his eyes fell upon Alice, however, his face went completely blank. His mouth went slack, hanging open slightly. He blinked rapidly, like a man staring at the sun for the first time.

At first I felt embarrassed for him. Alice was gorgeous, but it was no excuse to drool over her like a piece of meat. I was about to break the awkward silence before I turned to Alice and realized that her face had the same dumbstruck expression.

_What was going on?_ I cleared my throat loudly.

Jasper blinked once. He stood shakily from his chair, almost tripping over his own feet as he did so. He took one step toward Alice.

"Hello," he said. His voice was filled with awe.

"Hello," she replied in a small voice. I could have sworn I heard it tremble slightly.

Neither of them spoke for several long moments. They just stood there, staring at each other.

I was at a loss for what to do when someone cleared their throat loudly behind us. I turned to find Edward leaning against the side of our cubicle, his expression puzzled. His eyes darted between Alice and Jasper, then to me, and then back to Jasper. He looked about as confused as I felt.

"Jasper," he said.

Jasper reluctantly tore his eyes away from Alice, turning to Edward with a dazed expression. "Huh?"

Edward raised an eyebrow. "I have those contacts for you," he said, handing him a large folder.

Jasper stared at it as if he didn't know what it was. "Oh… thanks."

The four of us stood in silence for the next few seconds. It was unbearably awkward.

"So…" I began, turning to Alice, "… lunch?"

"Oh… right," she said quietly.

"…Lunch?" Jasper asked. He sounded hopeful.

"Yes," Alice responded quickly before I could. "Would you like to come?"

A big, goofy grin spread across Jasper's face. He was about to reply when Edward interjected.

"We can't," he stated. "We have a lot of work to d--"

Jasper very indiscreetly stomped on his foot.

"We'd love to go!" He shot Edward a warning glare.

"Great!" Alice cried enthusiastically.

Jasper returned his full attention to Alice, while Edward turned away from Jasper and shifted his gaze to me.

"Great," I echoed, halfheartedly.

--

Jasper suggested the Corner Bistro for lunch. I had never been there, but I'd heard the food was good. It was just a few blocks away from the office, so we decided to walk. Jasper and Edward led the way in front while Alice and I trailed a few feet behind them. Alice was staring intently at Edward's back, undoubtedly performing her own personal in-depth physical analysis. Eventually she turned to me and grinned, giving me thumbs up. I grimaced and swatted her hands away.

When we reached the restaurant it was easy to see why Jasper had chosen this place. It was impeccably decorated; modern yet cozy, spacious yet intimate…. Exactly the sort of place Alice would love.

The hostess seated us at a small table by the window. Alice sat down first, and Jasper eagerly took the chair across from her. I instinctually took the seat next to Alice, which left Edward the seat directly facing me. _Great_. How the hell was I going to get through lunch without staring at him the entire time? I buried my face in my menu.

It wasn't long before a petite, curly haired waitress approached our table. "Hi, my name's Stephenie, I'll be your server this afternoon. What can I get for you guys?"

She turned to me first. Crap. I could never decide what I wanted. "Ummm," I chewed on my lip, "I'll have a glass of iced tea and a house salad with the grilled salmon," I said.

Edward looked surprised by my order. He smirked, as if there were something humorous about it. Why was everything I did _funny_ to him?

"_What_?" I demanded.

He stared at me for a moment with an odd expression on his face before turning to the waitress. "Same for me," he said, handing her his menu.

Oh.

The waitress turned to Jasper next. He ordered a double cheeseburger and onion rings.

"Oooh, that sounds good!" Alice exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. "I'll have the same."

"The _same_?" Jasper asked, incredulously. "You can't possibly eat all that!"

"Watch me!" she giggled.

"But where do you _put_ it all?" he demanded, gesturing toward her tiny frame.

"I'll never tell," Alice replied, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously at him.

Jasper grinned widely and let out a loud, hearty laugh.

"Believe me," I said, turning to Jasper, "she burns all of it off right away. This one is a constant ball of energy. She picked up a nasty caffeine habit in college…"

Alice glared at me. "I had reason for it!" she insisted. "I was always up late working in the fashion lab. I can't say the same for _you_, Madame English major, what with your political rallies and your poetry readings and your feminist bra burnings…"

"_Bra burnings_?" Edward repeated, his lips twisting into a smirk.

I averted my eyes. "Once," I muttered.

His smirk widened into one of his heartbreakingly gorgeous crooked smiles. I scowled at the table.

The food arrived quickly. I grimaced as Alice shoved the giant burger into her tiny mouth and swallowed a rather large bite. Jasper laughed appreciatively, and reached across the table to give her a high five.

"Color me impressed," he said. Alice giggled.

The two of them held up most of the conversation while Edward and I ate quietly. Occasionally I would risk sneaking a peek at him from across the table. One of those times my eyes went to his face, and I was surprised to discover his eyes staring back into mine. He held my gaze for a short second before we both looked down at the table.

I was analyzing this new development in my head when I heard the conversation shift to the topic of Mike Newton.

"_Newton_" Jasper sneered with disgust. "I wish he could learn to control his _urges_, for all of our sakes."

"Has he always been like this?" I asked.

"Since I've been at the _Sun_," Jasper confirmed. "Especially when he hired Rosalie. He made a pass at her on her very first day. She put him right back in his place, though-- told him that if it ever happened again he would be _missing his manhood_," Jasper chuckled. "He hasn't given her a hard time since."

I sighed. I would have to learn how to do that.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this," Edward muttered, "but in Newton's defense, he wasn't the only one. They were all trailing after Rosalie with their tongues hanging out like dogs. I suppose they couldn't help themselves," he finished bitterly.

Jasper snorted.

Alice raised her eyebrows, intrigued. "And you don't include yourself in that category?" she asked innocently. I groaned inwardly. Of course she would try to interrogate him. This was going to be embarrassing.

Alice's question seemed to have taken Edward by surprise. He almost seemed… flustered.

"I prefer brunettes," he muttered. His eyes unexpectedly flashed to my face, and they lingered there for several long seconds. I felt a hot blush creep up my neck, which of course did not escape Edward's notice. He looked down pointedly at his plate and shoved a bite of food into his mouth.

"Me too," Jasper murmured softly. He looked at Alice, and she smiled shyly back at him.

When the check came, Jasper surprised no one by offering to pay for Alice's meal. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I had never understood the concept of men paying for women. I had a job; why shouldn't I pay for my own food?

My eyes went to Edward and I noticed he was staring at me again.

"I suppose you'd like to pay, too?" I snapped.

"No," he stated simply.

This caught me by surprise. "Oh," I stuttered. "Well… good."

Edward nodded curtly.

We both threw ten dollars bills on the table, and the four of us got up to leave. On the way back, Jasper and Alice walked together in front chattering rapidly while Edward and I walked silently behind them.

I tried not to overanalyze the scene at the restaurant, but I couldn't help myself. Why hadn't he offered to pay? And why should it matter to me whether he offered to pay or not?

I could feel Edward looking at me from my left, his eyes boring into the side of my face. I forced myself to look straight ahead... until I heard him say my name.

"Bella," he said softly.

I reluctantly turned to face him, struck as always by how impossibly beautiful his face was.

"I'm... sorry," he began, struggling for words. "It was rude of me to not offer to pay for lunch. It's just… well… I didn't think you would want me to."

I felt a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was oddly relieving to have Edward figure me out so easily. Apparently I wasn't nearly as mysterious as I would have liked to think I was.

"It's okay," I sighed. "You were right. Even if you _had_ offered to pay, I wouldn't have let you. The idea of men paying for women honestly seems kind of archaic to me."

His lips twitched into a small smile. "I know."

I almost could have imagined him saying "I know _you_," instead.

When we reached the office, we said our goodbyes to Alice.

"Nice to meet you, Edward Cullen," she said.

Edward smiled. "You too, Alice."

Alice turned to Jasper, then. "Goodbye," she said.

"Goodbye." He said, grasping her hand. "I hope I'll get to see you again."

Alice held onto Jasper's hand and stared into his face for a few long moments before finally turning to me.

"Call me later," she instructed, giving me a meaningful look.

"Will do," I said.

The three of us headed back into the office building together while Alice turned and walked down the street. I noticed that Jasper turned to look after her as she went.

* * *

**A/N: Who's excited for the next chapter? I AM!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello, my friends! I've missed you.**

**I know this update is long overdue, but you'll be happy to know this is the longest chapter I've written so far for this story. Hopefully that will make up for my prolonged absence.**

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BPOV

Back at the _Sun_, I struggled to finish my article. I would type a sentence, read it over, and then hastily delete it, my finger tapping impatiently on the _backspace_ key. Nothing was coming out right, and in all honesty, I was beginning to panic slightly. Our deadline was tomorrow morning and I had barely made any headway with my piece. I had been so busy all week editing everyone else's work that I had barely started on my own. I heard Edward's voice echo in my head: _"You'll have to fulfill all of your editing duties in addition, of course."_ It seemed silly now that I had been so grateful to him for assigning me this damned editorial. Of course he would give me more work than he knew I could handle. He was probably setting me up just so he could watch me fail.

Deep down, I knew this not to be the truth, but it made me feel slightly better to blame someone else for my present misfortune.

It was already well past 8 o'clock at night, but I took some comfort in the fact that I was not the only one still here. Jasper, Edward, Emmett, and Rosalie were all still at the office, also rushing to meet the deadline. Jasper sat at his desk, performing his usual muttering and hair rustling. There were balled up pieces of paper strewn everywhere throughout our cubicle - products of when Jasper would write something, decide it wasn't good enough, and then roll it up into a ball while muttering profanities and toss it aimlessly over his shoulder. He was definitely stressed, but at least he seemed to have made more progress with his story than I had with mine. I groaned, burying my face in my hands. It was going to be a long night.

I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. I wheeled around in my chair to find Rosalie standing there, a white Styrofoam cup in her hands. "I brought you some caffeine," she said, handing me the cup and a few packets of cream. "It looks like you need it."

I took the cup from her, and the strong scent of coffee made me immediately feel more awake. "Thanks," I said. Surprise was evident in my voice.

Rosalie gave me a radiant smile. "No problem. We need to look out for each other, us girls."

I nodded, taking a long sip of the hot liquid.

"So," she asked, perching on the edge of my desk, "How's it going?"

I sighed heavily, burying my face in my hands again. "Horrible," I mumbled through my fingers. "I'm so far behind."

Rosalie patted me on the back. "Don't worry," she said. "I know it feels overwhelming right now, but it really will get better. You just need to stay strong - show them what you're made of. I know you can do it."

I looked up at Rosalie, and realized how completely wrong I had been about her. When I first met her she had seemed nice enough, but I had unfairly underestimated her character. Women as beautiful as Rosalie were rarely genuine or kind or thoughtful.

"Thank you, Rosalie," I murmured. "That means a lot to me."

Rosalie patted me on the shoulder again before hopping off my desk and heading back to her cubicle. From where I sat, I could see Emmett crane his neck to watch her as she walked. As soon as she approached, however, he scrambled to assume his former position, almost falling out of his chair as he did so. I smiled to myself. _Real smooth, Emmett. _I allowed my eyes to shift several feet to the right, and for the first time since lunch, my gaze fell upon Edward; hunched over his desk, as per usual. I could tell, however, that he had seen the same thing I had - although his head was bent over his work, I saw his lips twitch up at the corners.

After Rosalie's pep talk and the boost from the caffeine, I felt a newfound wave of motivation. Rosalie was right. This was my chance to show them - _all_ of them - exactly what I was capable of. Success was so close within my grasp; I was not about to blow it. My fingers were pounding furiously against the keyboard now, inspiration flowing freely. Within an hour I had made more progress with my piece than I had the entire week. I was very nearly finished; the only thing left was to do the final editing, which I could put off until morning. I sighed, leaning back from my desk and stretching my arms up toward the ceiling.

Emmett simultaneously made the same motion. "Well," he yawned, stretching his arms out wide, "I'm outta here. Who's in the mood for Delilah's?"

"Count me in," Jasper sighed, pushing himself away from his desk. "I can't be here anymore."

"Me too," chirped Rosalie, who stood and began to put on her coat.

I leaned toward Jasper. "What's Delilah's?" I whispered.

"It's a bar down the street we like to go to after work," he explained. "You should come. You're part of the team now." He winked playfully.

"Oh," I mumbled, "I don't know if I should. I mean, we have a really busy day tomorrow…"

Emmett's large hands came down unexpectedly on my shoulders from behind, causing me to jump in my seat. "Nonsense, rookie!" he boomed. "You're coming. It's about time you were initiated!"

"_Initiated_?" I repeated.

"Don't worry," Rosalie laughed, coming to stand by Emmett. "It's not nearly as terrifying as it sounds."

"Well… alright." I knew there was no use arguing with Emmett.

"Awesome!" Emmett boomed, smiling hugely. "Hey!" he called to Edward, who was still bent over his work. "You're coming right?"

Edward looked up from his desk. "I don't think so," he said quietly. "I have a lot to get done before tomorrow."

"Aw, come on, Eddie!" Emmett whined, putting on his best attempt at a pouty face. "You have to come!"

Edward rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll stop by later… and don't call me _Eddie_," he muttered under his breath.

I ducked my head and I bit my lip to hide my smile. I secretly derived am immense amount of pleasure from the way Emmett picked on Edward. It was fun to see someone ruffle _his_ feathers for a change. And I had to admit, however reluctantly, that Edward was kind of cute when he was angry… so long as that anger wasn't directly pointed at _me_.

As if reading my thoughts, Edward's head suddenly snapped in my direction. At first I was afraid he might have been irritated at me for laughing at him, but he surprised me by smiling. It wasn't his usual sarcastic smirk, but rather a warm, genuine, actual smile. He held my gaze for a long moment, and unleashed the full force of his piercing emerald gaze. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. Edward blinked, and I took this as an opportunity to look down into my lap.

"I'll see you guys later, then," Edward murmured. I could still feel him looking at me as he spoke.

--

Delilah's was your typical bar joint in many ways, but it also had a special kind of charm. At the center of the room there was a long, wooden bar that was offset by little tables spread out across the floor. Above each table hung an oddly shaped, tinted glass lamp, each a unique color and shape. The walls were covered with modern surrealistic pieces done by local Seattle artists. There was a jukebox and a large pool table in the corner.

The four of us sat up at the counter, chattering away. Rosalie sat on one end, sipping daintily on her martini. Emmett and Jasper were in the middle, both of them fisting long neck beers. I was at the other end, still nursing a glass of whiskey I had ordered almost a half hour ago. It had been a while since I'd had a drink; I didn't want to overdo it and make a fool of myself.

Emmett and Jasper were deeply engrossed in a soccer game that was playing on the large LCD screen above the bar. Brazil vs. Austria, if I recall correctly. The Brazilians scored a winning goal at the last second, and Jasper roared with approval while Emmett jeered, both of them almost falling off their stools with their drunken enthusiasm.

Rosalie peeked around Emmett to roll her eyes at me. "Animals," she drawled. I giggled as Emmett rounded on her.

"_What_?" he demanded, placing his hands on his hips dramatically and gaping at her with mock offense. "What's wrong with a little testosterone inspired competition?"

Rosalie drained the last of her martini, placing the empty glass on the bar. "I just don't understand see the appeal", she snipped. "Watching a bunch of sweaty men run around and beat the pulp out of each other… or watching them deposit a ball in some sort of net or hoop contraption… why is that _fun_?"

Emmett shook his head gravely. Jasper clicked his tongue and made a "_tisk, tisk"_ noise.

Rosalie rolled her eyes again.

"What about pool?" Emmett demanded, rounding on her again. "Do you have any objections to _that_?"

Rosalie thought on it for a moment. "No," she decided. "Pool is okay."

"Then I challenge you to a DUEL!" Emmett shouted, jumping from his stool and almost toppling over onto the floor. He righted himself, however, and offered Rosalie his hand.

"Fine," she agreed, taking his hand and leading him toward the pool table. "Let me show you what a little _female_ competition is like." She grinned wickedly in my direction and winked.

"I have to take a piss," Jasper announced loudly. He hopped down from his stool in a clumsy fashion just as Emmett had, and stumbled toward the bathroom at the back of the bar. I shook my head, laughing to myself. I had learned this much so far tonight: Jasper plus alcohol equaled pure hilarity.

I sighed, realizing I was now completely alone at the bar. Emmett and Rosalie were secluded in a dark corner toward the back, and he was not-so-subtly trying to teach her how to shoot pool correctly. Jasper was in the bathroom doing things I likely did not want to know or hear about. I grimaced, wrinkling up my nose at the thought. I drained the remaining contents of my glass. If I was going to sit here by myself, I might as well drink a little. I knew my limits. "I'll have another whiskey, please," I told the bartender.

"Make that two," said a soft masculine voice behind me. There was no doubt in my mind as to who it was.

I turned to find Edward standing behind me, my favorite crooked smile upon his face. I tried to ignore the way this triggered a hysteric fluttering sensation in the pit of my stomach. "Is this seat taken?" he asked, gesturing to Jasper's abandoned chair.

I tried to play it casual. "I don't mind," I said, feigning nonchalance. "But you may have to fight Jasper for it."

Edward chuckled. "I think I can take him."

Edward sat down, and the bartender brought us our drinks. As if on cue, Jasper returned from the bathroom, weaving a bit as he tried to walk in a straight line. His face lit up when he saw Edward.

"Edwarrrrd, buddyyy, I'm so glad you're herrrre," he slurred, pulling Edward into a sloppy one armed hug. I watched as Edward hugged him back, his lips set firmly in place – with great effort – to keep from laughing. "Good to see you too, Jazz."

Jasper peeked over Edward's shoulder, and suddenly remembered my presence. "Bella!" he shouted – far too loud for indoors – "Bellaaa, I love you. I'm so glad we're friendsss." He attacked me with a hug then, squeezing me so hard he nearly suffocated me. "Me too," I squeaked out.

Jasper leaned back, smiling hugely at us. His expression changed abruptly as he seemed to remember something of dire importance. "BELLA!" he shouted again, and I winced at the volume. "Your friend Alice is really pretty, Bella. She reminds me of snow."

Edward put his hand over his face to muffle his loud guffaws. "I'll be sure to tell her that, Jazz." The laughter was audibly breaking through my voice now.

"Yeah," he mumbled absently. "You do that..." He looked around then, confused. "I think I should go home now."

"Go to bed, Jazz," I said gently, patting the side of his head. "And be careful getting home. Take a cab or something." Jasper nodded solemnly before turning to stumble toward the door. He exited the bar, and immediately slipped on a patch of icy sidewalk, swearing loudly. No longer able to contain myself, I buried my face in my hands and allowed my hysteric giggles to burst free. My body was shaking with laughter, tears streaming down my face. At first I was embarrassed by my loss of self control, but when I looked up I was shocked to find that Edward, too, was shaking with uncontrollable laughter.

I had never seen Edward laugh like this before. It was not his usual sarcastic bark, but full, loud, resounding, laughter. His face was relaxed and happy, and it somehow made his features look softer, warmer. His green eyes were literally sparkling. It hit me then – for the hundredth time, and also perhaps for the first time – how absurdly handsome he was. I felt the swell of butterflies again.

There were other things I noticed, too. Perhaps it was the effects of my drink finally sinking in, but I suddenly felt more relaxed than usual when I was around him, willing to let my guard down. I realized that I had never allowed myself to _look_ at him before, not really. I had never been able to fully appreciate the way his fitted button down shirts always hugged every perfect line of his upper body; his broad shoulders, his strong arms, his muscular chest… The tie he had been wearing at the office was gone now; the top few buttons on his shirt were undone. I could see the full length of his neck and the tips of his collarbone. Then there was his face - the part I was most unprepared for. His soft bronze hair was more tousled than usual, and his skin was pleasantly flushed from his unexpected bought of laughter. His lips looked fuller and softer than normal, parted slightly and coated in moisture. I found myself wondering suddenly what those lips would _feel_ like… Another violent flutter occurred in my stomach, and I licked my own lips unconsciously.

Then I pulled myself out of my daydreams so fast it was like snapping a rubber band. Here I was, _gawking_ at him, when he was sitting right across from me. _Way to go, Bella_, I thought to myself. I immediately felt a hot blush creeping onto my cheeks. I was mortally embarrassed, but when I looked up again I realized that he was staring at me, too,with an unreadable expression on his face. Curiosity outweighed my embarrassment._ What does he see when he looks at me?_ I wondered suddenly. The thought came into my head so quickly that I was unprepared for it; it sounded as if it had been spoken in someone else's voice.

I was thankful to have our tense moment interrupted by Rosalie, who appeared out of nowhere. "We're gonna get going too, kids… big day tomorrow". I hadn't even heard her approaching. I noticed that she looked a little flushed. I also noticed she was discreetly holding hands with Emmett. I gave her a tiny, knowing smile, and she smiled back. "Doomsday," Emmett muttered before humming a solemn dirge. Rosalie laughed and swatted at his arm playfully as they walked to the door together.

Sobered by their interruption, it suddenly began to feel very, very late. "We should go, too," I mumbled. "We have a busy day tomorrow." I stood slowly to maintain my balance, but I still wobbled unsteadily. Edward stood as I did, extending a hand to catch me if I fell. I managed to right myself, however, and he withdrew his hand, shoving it in his pocket.

"How will you get home?" he asked quietly.

"I parked a few blocks from the office," I mumbled absentmindedly, fishing around in my wallet for some cash.

"Would it be alright if I walk with you?" I looked up, and was caught off guard by the unexpected tenderness I found in his eyes.

"S-sure," I stuttered. "I guess that would be alright."

Edward nodded, grabbing his coat and shrugging it over his broad shoulders. I threw a few bills on the bar while Edward walked ahead to hold the door open for me. We exited together into the night.

--

It was truly a picturesque winter evening. Tall antique lamp posts with a warm yellow glow lined both sides of the empty street. Small, delicate flakes of pristine white snow floated through the air, lightly dusting the frozen pavement. It looked exactly like a scene from a Charles Dickens novel. The air was freezing, however. On the plus side, it was helping to clear the alcohol induced fog from my brain. On the negative side, I realized with chagrin that I had left my coat at the office. I shivered, pulling the sides of my cardigan closer together.

"Are you cold?" Edward asked, breaking our silence.

"A little," I shrugged and tried to brush it off, but my teeth chattered, giving me away.

He immediately slipped out of his thick wool coat and draped it over my shoulders without giving me a chance to protest. Normally I would have grumbled at his unnecessary chivalry, but I was far too cold to argue. "Thanks," I muttered, wrapping the coat tightly around myself.

"You don't like the cold." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, not really," I admitted. "I'm used to a warmer climate."

"Where are you from?"

"Phoenix… my mother lives there with her husband, Phil."

"You miss her." Again, not a question.

"Yes," I admitted, "very much."

Edward nodded, seeming satisfied by this answer. I accepted this as an opportunity to take the focus away from myself. "What about you?"

"What _about_ me?" he asked, lightly but evasively.

"What are your parents like?"

He pondered this for a moment. "My adoptive parents – Carlisle and Esme – are two of the most wonderful people on this planet. I can't imagine two more loving and supportive parents."

"You were adopted?" This surprised me for some reason.

"Yes," he answered softly. "My birth parents died many years ago."

"Oh." _Well done_, I thought angrily at myself. I immediately felt terrible for bringing it up. Frantically, I tried to think of a way to change the subject.

"So, what do your adoptive parents do for a living?" My voice came out sounding higher than normal.

This did not escape Edward's notice, of course – _nothing_ did. His lips turned up at the corners. "Carlisle is a doctor. Esme works as an interior designer."

"Ah, that makes sense," I said quietly.

"What makes sense?" he asked, confused.

"Now I see where you get it from… your chivalrous side," I explained. "With a father who is a doctor I suppose you can't help yourself from trying to save people all the time." There was an unintentional biting edge to my voice. I regretted it immediately.

"And I suppose _you_ can't help stubbornly refusing to accept other people's help," he countered.

I sighed. He was right. Not only was he right, he was incredibly perceptive. _Too_ perceptive. "Well… I suppose you're right," I began. "I'm _not_ used to accepting other people's help. My mother, Renee, has always been more like a child than the parent in our relationship. I guess I got so used to growing up taking care of her _and_ taking care of myself that the idea of accepting help from anyone seems completely foreign to me." I paused, turning to gauge his reaction. His face was blank and patient; he merely waited for me to continue. "But," I reminded him, "we were talking about you, not me."

Edward chuckled. "Yes," he agreed, "We were. And I suppose you're right about me, as well. Growing up with someone like Carlisle as a role model definitely instilled certain instincts to protect those around me… whether they want me to or not," he added with a smirk.

"Is that why you offered to walk with me?" I demanded, "For my _protection_?" My eyes narrowed slightly.

Edward laughed again – he knew better than to test my temper. "No," he assured me. "Only for the pleasure of your company." He flashed another one of my favorite crooked grins and I looked down, blushing.

I realized abruptly that we had reached our destination.

"Well…" I paused, not quite sure what to say. "This is my stop. Thank you for the company, and for the coat." I folded it over my arm and handed it back to him. I forced myself to look at his chest rather than his face, knowing what I would feel if I did. I could sense him staring at me, however, and I slowly inched my face upward. Our eyes met instantly, emerald to chocolate. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment it felt as if my heart had literally stopped beating. Edward was gazing at me with an inexplicably pained expression. It seemed, from my hazy perceptions, as if he couldn't bear to let me go.

_No,_ I thought hastily to myself. _That couldn't be it_. _I must have been misreading him_. But as I continued to stare at the tortured expression on Edward's face, it no longer mattered to me what he was thinking or feeling. It no longer mattered - not because I didn't care what he was thinking - but because my attention was suddenly far more preoccupied with the unexpected dull ache I felt deep within my chest. I was hit by the overwhelming realization that _I_ didn't want to leave _him_.

I was pulled out of my moment of revelation as I noticed Edward moving slowly toward me. By the time I had regained control of my senses, he was suddenly right in front of me, our faces mere inches apart. He stared intensely into my eyes, somehow managing to communicate the unsaid attraction between us. My heart spluttered to a stop again and then began jack hammering wildly in my chest. I knew that our gaze had been sustained for longer than was necessary, but I couldn't bring myself to look away. My hands began to tremble.

His face inched forward ever so slightly, and I thought for one brief moment that he was going to kiss me. My whole body tensed in anticipation. He moved closer still, and then did something I did not expect. So slowly I barely noticed until it was happening, he reached up and traced the tips of his fingers softly down the side of my face, from my temple to my jaw. His touch, so gentle, sent an electric jolt through my system, from the roots of my hair down to the tips of my toes. I felt myself shudder delicately, and I knew that it was not from the cold.

"Goodnight," he murmured softly, his eyes burning with intensity. His fingers still rested gently on the side of my face.

"Goodnight," I whispered, but he did not hear me. He was already striding away in the opposite direction.

I stood frozen in place, staring numbly after him. I climbed woodenly into my car, and as I placed my hands on the steering wheel I realized they were still shaking. I drove home with my mind in a daze, barely aware of my surroundings. Even when I got back to my apartment I was only capable of sitting on my couch, staring absently into space. I could not shake the feeling that somehow, some way, my life was about to be completely and irrevocably altered.

That was the night I dreamed of Edward Cullen.

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**A/N: If you thought this chapter was good, you're going to LOVE what I have in store for the next one!**

**Review, yes?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Drum roll, please…**

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BPOV

I was at the office, walking down the long hallway that stretched between the front desk and the newsroom. The newsroom was busy as ever when I entered, but something about it seemed different… strange somehow. It took me only a second to realize that it was because I felt like an outsider looking in; although I was standing in the exact center of the room, no one seemed to acknowledge my presence. Jasper did not look up to greet me with his usual welcoming smile. Not even Jessica had bothered to look up and glare at me as I passed by the front desk on my way in, which was equally as out of the ordinary.

I found myself inexplicably moving toward a small door at the far side of the newsroom. I recognized it to be the copy room; a tiny space, probably no bigger than a closet, where we kept the copy machine and extra paper. I could think of no reason why I needed to go in there, but for some reason I felt the need to now. I twisted the door knob, stepped inside and shut the door behind me.

I knew I had gone into the copy room to find something, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly what. As I tried to remember, I heard a soft click and a whoosh of air as the door to the room opened and then closed again. I whirled around and let out a little squeak as I nearly smashed into Edward. He was standing directly behind me, an impish grin spread across his face. He looked different, somehow. More… devious… than usual. I noticed that his eyes were a darker shade than his usual sparkling emerald.

"Sorry I startled you," he murmured.

"You didn't," I lied unconvincingly. My heart rate still had not gone back to normal.

Edward's eyes were filled with unmistakable amusement. He took another step closer to me - quite impressive in such a tiny space - until I had to crane my neck to look up into his face. I tried not to notice the way my breasts brushed up lightly against his chest.

"Really?" His voice was still amused, but even quieter now, and smooth like velvet. "That's strange, because your heart is beating incredibly fast." He reached out and placed his hand against the side of my neck, feeling my pulse point.

I felt as if someone had shocked me with electric paddles. The skin on my neck began to tingle, heating under his fingertips. My heart rate accelerated far too quickly, pounding so wildly in my chest that it was almost painful. It was obvious Edward had noted my body's physical reaction to his touch; I watched as his eyes darkened further from deep emerald to almost pure black. I suddenly had to remind myself to breathe.

Edward's hand stayed in place on my neck as he moved his body forward again, forcing me backward until I was pressed up against the wall.

"Wh--wh--" I tried to ask him what he was doing, but couldn't seem to get the words out. The way Edward was looking at me made any attempt at coherent speech impossible.

He bent his head low enough that wisps of his bronze hair fell forward and lightly tickled my forehead. I could feel his warm breath washing across my face; it smelled sweet, almost minty. Our faces were so close that I barely would have had to move a centimeter for our lips to touch.

I hardly had time to actually contemplate that thought before Edward shifted his face to the side. His hand that rested on my neck slid downward across my shoulders, over the curve of my waist and down to my hip. Meanwhile, he skimmed his nose along the other side of my neck, from my collarbone up to my jaw. He repeated this circuit several times before finally coming to rest at the hollow beneath my ear.

"Bella," he murmured, nuzzling the sensitive spot.

Pure desire shot through my veins upon hearing my name fall from Edward's lips in that low, husky voice. It was quite possibly the sexiest thing I'd ever heard. I felt my head fall limply against the wall as my eyes rolled back into their sockets.

"Do you want me to touch you, Bella?" His words, combined with the sensation of his lips vibrating against my ear, sent a pleasurable chill down my spine.

"Y-yes," I whimpered. There was no point in denying it anymore, not even to myself.

I felt him smile against my neck. "I thought so."

Edward moved his hands further down and then slid them back up over the smooth skin of my thighs, under my skirt. I involuntarily arched my back against the wall, bringing our lower bodies closer together. My breathing was labored and embarrassingly loud, but I couldn't bring myself to care at the moment.

"Bella?" he whispered.

"Mmmm?" I was still not capable of formulating words.

Edward's lips moved back to my ear again. "It's time to wake up now."

"What?" I mumbled, breathless.

"You're going to be late for work."

--

My eyes snapped open, and I was immediately forced to close them again as a blinding bright light pierced my vision. I screwed my eyes tightly shut, and counted to ten before I slowly opened them again. I was not met by a blinding light this time, but instead by an array of blurry shapes and colors. As my vision came into focus, I realized that I was back in my room, at my apartment.

Slowly, everything started to become clearer. On one hand, I'd known all along that the scenario with Edward in the copy room had been entirely implausible, but on the other hand, I could hardly believe that it hadn't been real; I'd never had a dream that felt so _vivid_. I could distinctly remember every whisper, every touch. Not only could I remember, but I could still feel my body's physical response - a thin layer of sweat covered my skin, causing my clothes to stick to it uncomfortably. My breathing had not slowed, and my heart was still thumping erratically. With mortification, I became aware of an intense wetness seeping through my panties.

I forced myself to push the dream from my mind as I tried to remember how exactly I had ended up here, in bed. Last night I had left work and gone to the bar with Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie. I had walked to my car with Edward, and I'd come straight home after that. Last night it was… Thursday, which meant that today was Friday. I rolled over onto my side and glanced at my alarm clock. It was 9:30 in the morning.

It was 9:30. It was Friday. It was 9:30 on a Friday. It was….

"HOLY CRAP!" I yelped, literally springing several inches up into the air. I immediately regretted this decision - as soon as I was upright my temples began to throb painfully. "Argh!" I cried, falling back against my pillows with a loud _whoosh_. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my forehead, willing the dull ache to go away. I tried to swallow, but my throat was incredibly dry. I ran my tongue around my mouth and realized that it tasted and felt like the inside of a scratchy wool sweater.

I groaned. My first drink in six months, and I had a hangover. How typical.

I propped myself up until I was in a sitting position. After dangling my legs over the side of my bed for a few moments I stood carefully on my feet. Once I was sure I could maintain my balance I wobbled unsteadily down the hall to my bathroom. I glanced at my reflection in the full length mirror behind the door and realized with horror that I was still wearing my clothes from yesterday. _Classy_, I thought sardonically to myself. I stripped off my clothes and tossed them into a dirty pile on the floor. My soiled underwear came off next and were hastily thrown in the trash. I tried not to dwell on how they got that way; it was too embarrassing to think about.

I was already late for work, so I hurriedly brushed my teeth before slapping on some deodorant. Rather than waste time picking out something to wear I grabbed the first two articles of clothing I found sitting on top of my laundry hamper – dark jeans and a purple v-neck sweater. For a second I worried about being reprimanded for my casual work attire, but then I bleakly reminded myself that it probably wasn't possible for me to get in more trouble than I was already in. I twisted my hair into a messy knot at the back of my head and didn't bother to put on makeup. Stumbling to my closet, I grabbed a random pair of shoes; my feeble attempt to put them on resembled a frantic, one-legged bunny hop. I dashed to the kitchen, grabbed my coat, keys, and purse and practically sprinted out the door.

--

I walked hurriedly past the front desk, and this time I knew I wasn't dreaming because Jessica looked up to grace me with her usual unfriendly sneer. _"Late much?"_ I heard her mutter as I half-walked half-jogged toward the newsroom.

I practically flung my things onto my desk before throwing myself into my desk chair with so much force that it rolled several feet backward and bumped into Jasper.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded. "I was starting to get worried."

"It's a long story." I drummed my fingers impatiently against my desk, waiting for my computer to boot up.

Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Is it one I might get to hear?"

It took me less than a second to answer that: "No."

Jasper shrugged, turning back to his work.

Panic swelled in my chest as my computer moved slower than a snail's pace. I fought the urge to rip it out from the wall and chuck it out the window. "How much time do we have?" I demanded.

"We go to print in twenty minutes." Jasper must have heard my sharp intake of breath, because then he asked, "Are you going to make it?"

"I think so." I would get through this… somehow. I could make it, as long as I encountered no more _distractions_.

As if on cue, Edward appeared. He made his usual entrance, leaning casually against the side of our cubicle. I expected him to ignore me and speak to Jasper like he always did, but he turned to me instead.

I tensed, expecting him to scold me for being late. Quite unexpectedly, he greeted me with a smile. "Good Morning, Bella. Glad you could finally join us." I was surprised to find that there was no hint of sarcasm in his voice; he was actually being _playful_.

My mouth opened and closed several times while I continued to stare at him like an idiot. I hadn't the faintest idea what to say to him. _Oh, hey Edward, guess what: I had a really sexy dream about you last night._

Yeah, that would have been a _great_ conversation starter.

Edward stared back at me with a genuinely perplexed expression. After several seconds of unbearably awkward silence, he turned, confused, and headed back to his desk. At that moment, I found it impossible not to feel like an absolute moron. It was embarrassing, the effect he had on me. It wasn't appropriate, it wasn't _normal_. There was no reason why that dream should have sent me into such an emotional tizzy. We hadn't even _kissed_, for God's sake! I seriously needed to get a grip on myself.

But this was easier said than done now that I was in the same room with him - now that I actually had to _look_ at him, in the flesh. Seeing him again forced me to revisit those more specific aspects of my dream, details I had been desperately trying to push from my mind all morning. I couldn't help now being vividly aware of those details - hinted at in my dream, and now confirmed before my eyes.

Those thoughts would have to wait, however. There were far more important things to focus on at the moment – like not losing my job. Turning back to my computer, I selected the completed files for mine and everyone else's articles. There was no time to go over them, so I hurriedly attached the files to an email addressed to Newton. I was about to send it when Edward walked past our cubicle again. I was momentarily distracted by the way his dress pants fit across his round, perfect…

_Jesus, Bella, get a grip_! I mentally scolded myself. I looked away and hastily clicked the _Send _button.

As soon as I sent the file, it felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I relaxed for the first time all morning, finally breathing a long held sigh of relief. I turned away from my desk then, ready to tackle the next item on my agenda: taking my mind off of Edward. It was a futile attempt, and I knew it. Regardless, I had to try. I decided to start by grabbing a cup of coffee from the break room.

When I came back, there was a pop up window on my computer screen: _These items have been successfully deleted_.

I turned away from the screen, and then did a double take. _Deleted?_ No, that simply could not be. I had pushed the _Send_ button, which was on the left side of the screen, which was… directly next to the _Delete_ button.

I felt my stomach plummet through the floor as I realized what I had done.

"_No,"_ Iwhispered_. _This could not be happening. Not even _I_ had this bad of luck. I closed my eyes, hoping it would go away, but when I opened them the pop up was still there. I stared at the screen, willing the message to disappear.

It didn't.

"_NO!"_ I repeated, shouting this time. Suddenly I was on my feet. I'm not sure exactly why I felt the need to stand. Perhaps it was because, at the time, I felt like I should do something, _anything_ to rectify my error - but I knew full well that nothing could be done.

"Bella?" Jasper looked up from his work, startled by my outburst.

I felt my eyes grow wide with horror. "Gone," I mouthed in a broken whisper.

Jasper was genuinely concerned now. He crossed the length of our cubicle in two long strides so he could stand directly in front me of. He gripped my shoulders tightly. "Bella," he commanded, "Tell me what happened."

I opened my mouth to tell him, but the truth was far too horrible to speak out loud. The reality of the situation was more than my fragile brain could handle – It was too much, too devastating. I began to feel lightheaded.

"Gone," I breathed again as darkness clouded my vision. The last thing I felt was Jasper catching me in his arms before I collapsed.

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**A/N: I've posted the playlist for this story on my profile. I suppose you could think of it as a "soundtrack" of sorts - a lot of the songs were playing in my head while I was writing the story. I even posted links so you can listen to samples of the songs online. Let me know what you think!**

**Oh, and, um… REVIEW! This story has received over 5,000 hits in the last month and yet there are only 80 reviews. That's seriously pathetic. I know you guys can do better than that!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: The Worst Day of Bella's Life... Continued.**

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BPOV

All I could see was darkness, as if I were submerged beneath a heavy, impenetrable blanket. I was momentarily transfixed by the shapeless, insubstantial blurs of color that floated across the murky background, but I soon became aware of something warm and soft brushing against my face. I was so wrapped up in the pleasurable sensation that it took me a few moments to realize I was being caressed by a set of strong but gentle fingers. I could hear sounds in the background, too; soft, indistinct noises I eventually came to identify as words.

"What happened? Is she hurt?" asked a soft masculine voice. The voice was calm and steady, but I could detect the worry beneath its surface.

"I'm not sure," said another voice. "She just… fell…. I was able to catch her before she hit the floor." This voice was significantly less controlled, with a detectable edge of panic to it.

I felt another soft pressure on my face, this time against my forehead. "Bella," the first voice said, "Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"

My eyelids felt so heavy; I didn't want to open them, but the voice was so soothing, so persuasive that I found myself incapable of disobeying. Slowly, my eyes fluttered open.

The first thing I saw was Edward's face. He was leaning protectively over my body, and I was surprised to find it was _his_ hand that rested gently upon my forehead. I blinked, and relief washed across Edward's features. "Welcome back," he murmured.

The dull ache in my neck made me realize that I was on my back, lying on the floor. I awkwardly propped myself up on my elbows while Edward placed a supporting hand behind my back to help me sit up straight. I noticed that he kept it there, even after I was fully upright.

My eyes quickly scanned the surrounding area. I found Jasper standing several feet away, leaning against his desk with his arms folded across his chest. His face was twisted with worry, and it occurred to me suddenly that his distress was because of _me._ Oh boy… I must have really made a scene.

"It's okay, Jazz. I'm fine." My voice came out sounding thick and hoarse, surprising me. I cleared my throat self-consciously.

Jasper came to crouch next to Edward on the floor. "You really gave me a scare there, Bells," he scolded.

"Sorry," I muttered, blushing slightly. I hated being the center of attention.

"Do you remember what happened?" Edward asked. His eyes were searching my face intently.

That was a very good question. What _had_ happened to me? My eyes searched again, trying to remember. As they fell upon my work desk, it all suddenly came flooding back to me: Edward, an email, coffee, and a pop up window.

Oh, shit.

"I… I… think I've really made a mess of things." I found myself incapable of looking at Edward, so I looked down at my hands instead. I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye; not with what I was about to tell him.

I felt Edward's index finger touch lightly at the bottom of my chin. He gently tilted my head up so I was forced to meet his gaze directly. "Whatever it is, you can tell me," he murmured softly.

The look of trust on his face was enough to make my heart twist sickeningly. He really did have faith in me – faith I didn't deserve. I knew I couldn't put this off any longer; I had to tell him. Like a true coward, I averted my eyes from his again.

I took a deep breath before I began my confession. "The files with everyone's stories on them… I… accidentally deleted them." It came out in a rush, and I braced myself as I prepared to be on the receiving end of Edward's fury. I could imagine his hands squeezing around my neck, my eyeballs popping out of their sockets…

But he didn't strangle me, or yell, or explode. He didn't do anything. Curiosity outweighed my fear as I hesitantly looked up to face him. His face was several shades paler than usual, and his jaw was set tight, but he did not look angry.

Jasper, on the other hand, looked as if he were going to be sick. "How?" he asked, his voice weak.

"I got… distracted."

Edward shifted his weight backward and off of his knees so he was sitting on the floor. Whether it was because he felt faint or because his legs were tired, I could not be sure. He sighed, running a hand absently through his messy bronze hair. I could tell that he was deep in thought, undoubtedly trying to think of a solution for this disaster of a situation. I decided to keep my mouth shut. I hadn't invoked the wrath of Edward _yet_, but I wasn't about to test my luck.

Jasper was the first to speak after several long moments of silence. "I can try to retrieve the files," he offered.

Hope flickered across Edward's face, and I hated to have to be the one to kill that particular emotion. "I don't think that's going to work," I said quietly.

"Why not?" They both said it at the same time.

I looked down into my lap again, ashamed. "My hard drive was getting cluttered, so… I… changed the settings on my computer so that all files sent to my Recycle Bin are immediately deleted… permanently."

The remaining color drained from Edward's face, whereas Jasper's began to resemble a sickly green color. They both looked absolutely terrified. I realized in that moment how selfish I had been, only worrying about myself. The unfortunate truth was that my mistake would not only affect _my_ life and _my_ career. We – Edward, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie and I - were a team, and my mistake would bring with it repercussions for everyone involved. I had unintentionally sabotaged us all.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, but this sort of apology did not seem nearly adequate enough. My throat tightened as small tears began to form at the corners of my eyes.

Jasper placed a hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture. "What can we do?" he pleaded, looking to Edward now.

"There's nothing to be done," Edward said evenly. "We have to tell Newton."

Jasper's eyes widened. "Are you _insane_?" he hissed.

"What other choice so we have?" Edward demanded. "We can't retrieve the files, and it's too late to re-edit everything in time. We'll have to push back the deadline."

"Edward, if you tell him, we'll all be sacked!"

Edward was about to retort when I held up a hand to silence him. "No," I said quietly to Jasper. "Not all of you. Just me."

Jasper's jaw tightened. He shook his head infinitesimally, but did not try to contradict what I had said. He and I both knew it was the truth.

Edward stayed silent during our exchange before finally speaking again. "_No one_ is going to get fired," he stated firmly.

I snorted. "_Right_. When Newton finds out that I single-handedly botched an entire issue of the paper and cost the publishing company millions of dollars, he's just going to say '_Oh, that's okay Bella, better luck next time_'? No, I don't think so."

Edward took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He seemed to be debating something internally, but when he opened his eyes they were blazing with determination.

"No one is going to get fired," he continued, "because I'm going to tell Newton that the whole thing was _my _fault."

I stared at him blankly, uncomprehending. Why in the world would he do that?

And then… it hit me; quite literally, in a sense. I felt all of the air evacuate my lungs as if I had been sucker punched.

He was offering to take the blame in my place.

_No_. It sounded like a scream in my head, but only left my mouth as a whisper. "Edward, you can't! I won't let you!"

Edward rolled his eyes dismissively. "Think about it," he insisted, "I'm an editor; I'm indispensable to them. They're not going to fire me. If I take the blame, the worst punishment I'll receive is a slap on the wrist, maybe a suspension or a pay cut. You, on the other hand, will most assuredly lose your job over this."

Was he seriously offering to take the fall for me? Had he _completely_ lost his mind? "No. Absolutely not."

"Bella," he sighed, "It's the only way. For once, stop being so damn stubborn and let someone help you."

Did he honestly think that saving me from getting fired would fix this? That allowing him to take the blame for me would make this _right_? I could not bring myself to believe that, to do what he was asking. This could not be the only way. There was always a choice; there had to be.

But I could tell by the look on Edward's face that he was not going to budge on this. It was impossible to change his mind once he was set on doing something. Well, that was fine, because I could be stubborn, too – we were alike in that regard. I refused to allow some ridiculous, misguided attempt at protecting me to jeopardize his career. I would have to convince him to see things my way, and if sarcasm was the only way to get through to him, then so be it.

"For once," I spat acidly, "Mind your own business and let me take care of myself!"

Edward recoiled as if I had slapped him, and I immediately felt a painful sense of remorse. This feeling was lost on me, however, as his hurt quickly shifted to anger. "Bella, you are utterly absurd," he snapped.

I tried to push past him, but he grabbed my elbow and refused to let me budge. I spun around prepared glare at him, but was immediately disarmed by the pained, almost tortured expression on his face. "Bella, please, _please_ don't do this."

The pleading look in his eyes made my heart wretch, but I could not allow myself to be dissuaded. "I have to."

"No you don't, not for me."

Did he seriously think I was doing this just for _him_? Typical man; they always think the world revolves exclusively around them.

"You listen to me, Edward Cullen. I am not doing this only for your benefit, okay? I would be doing this even if you weren't involved. This is not me being stubborn; this is me trying to do what's _right_."

I took a deep breath to steady myself. I needed to say this, and I needed to be calm in order to get it all out. Part of me expected Edward to take advantage of my momentary silence and interrupt me before I could start again. He didn't, so I continued.

"Listen, Edward, I screwed up. I really, _really_ screwed up. And I know I might lose my job over this; that's just a consequence I'm going to have to live with. But I refuse to let someone else – you or anyone – suffer for something _I did_. I could never live with myself if I just stood by and let that happen. I'm not a perfect person, not by far, but I'd like to think I have more integrity than you're giving me credit for."

Edward blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and then just stared at me, dumbstruck. For the first time perhaps ever, Edward Cullen was speechless.

I felt an unexpected rush of exhilaration in that moment. I wasn't sure which I was more proud of: the fact that I had left him at a loss for words, or the fact that I had actually pulled off that dramatic little speech.

Now came the time for me to actually follow through on my words, and, in light of the catastrophic disaster I was about to bring crashing down upon myself, these minor victories seemed rather small in comparison. My heart started pounding and my knees began to shake, but I knew I couldn't put this off any longer. I needed to get it over with before I lost my resolve. I pushed past Edward again, and this time he didn't try to stop me.

I could sense the tension in the room as I began my walk of shame toward Newton's office. I had been so wrapped up in my verbal spat with Edward that I hadn't noticed every single head in the newsroom inclined in my direction. I could feel multiple sets of eyes staring at me, but I forced myself to keep my face forward. If I allowed myself to look at them, there was no way I would be able to prevent myself from diving under a desk and cowering in a fit of supreme humiliation. I knew my breakdown was inevitable, but it would simply have to wait. There would be plenty of time later – after I was fired - for wallowing in self-pity.

For now, I had a very dark date with destiny to attend to.

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**A/N: I know, another cliffy... Sorry, I had to!**

**Perhaps you should bribe me into writing the next chapter by sending lots of reviews...**

**Yes? Okay.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey guys! **

**I know it's been a while since I've updated. Sorry about that. I've been really busy with school and working two jobs and trying to be an adult and all that boring stuff.**

**Anyway, I'm back now, with an action packed chapter I hope you all enjoy!**

**Here 'tis . . . **

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BPOV

I slipped into Newton's office and quickly locked the door behind me. He looked up from his desk, startled. Then he grinned widely as he looked me over. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise."

I wasted no time in getting right down to business. "I need to talk to you."

"Of course," he said, flashing another greasy smile.

I wasn't sure exactly how to begin explaining myself, so I just launched right into it. "Mike, I've done something really horrible."

He raised his eyebrows. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it can't be that bad."

I sighed heavily. "Actually, it can. I accidentally deleted all of the edited files for the next issue. There's no way we'll be able to retrieve them in time."

His face fell slightly, but he surprisingly was able to keep his composure. He sighed, leaning back in his desk chair. When it became clear he wasn't going to say anything, I continued.

"Look, I know that an apology is virtually useless to you at this point, but I truly am sorry. It was a mistake, a careless error . . . not that it makes this any better."

Newton continued to stare at me wordlessly, and I inwardly began to panic. "Please, say something."

Then he surprised me by doing the last thing I expected: he started laughing. Not very loudly; more like a soft chuckle. Still, it seemed like an incredibly inappropriate action, considering the circumstances. I gaped at him.

"Oh, Bella," he sighed, still chuckling. "Oh, Bella, Bella."

"_Oh Bella?"_ That was all he had to say? This was certainly not the reaction I had expected.

"Aren't you . . . _mad_?" I whispered incredulously.

His laughing quieted finally, and he breathed a heavy sigh. "Well, yes," he admitted, "But not at _you_."

I continued to stare at him, dumbfounded.

"Allow me to explain," he said, standing from his desk. "Please, sit down." He gestured toward the large black leather couch against the wall.

I sat, and tried to ignore a rapidly growing sense of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. He hadn't fired me right off the bat, but that didn't mean I was entirely off the hook. He took a seat next to me on the couch, far closer than I would have preferred. "I'm not angry with you, Bella," he said, stretching his arm across the back of the couch so it was almost touching my shoulders. "I _told_ Edward you weren't ready for this. Had he listened to me, none of this would have happened. I blame _him_ for this, not you."

I blinked, confused. "No, you shouldn't blame Edward for . . ."

He held up a hand to silence me. "Don't bother, Bella. I'm not interested in hearing you try to defend him. There are, however, certain matters that need to be discussed. This situation will obviously bring . . . repercussions."

I swallowed loudly. "I'm willing to accept the consequences for my actions," I said in the bravest voice I could manage.

Newton smiled widely. "I'm very glad to hear you say that."

The look in his eyes increased the uneasy feeling; it was smug, almost _gloating_. "Wh-what do you mean?" I stuttered.

"Well," he said casually, "Of course there will need to be some sort of . . . compensation for what's been done."

"You mean like . . . money?" I asked confused.

He chuckled softly. "That's not exactly what I meant."

He moved his hand so that it was resting on my knee, and then slid it up over my thigh. I immediately flinched away from his touch. "I was thinking more of . . . a different kind of currency."

My eyes widened in horror as I realized what he was proposing. "Are you crazy?" I demanded, scrambling away from him in the couch.

Newton rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Bella. This is the perfect arrangement for both of us. I get what _I_ want, and _you_ get to keep your job." It was impossible to miss the threat in his voice. Frankly, I was angry and a bit insulted that he would try to blackmail me. Did he really think I could be swayed so easily? That I would actually _consider_ . . . ?

"I would rather lose my job than sleep with you," I spat.

"Well, that's unfortunate," he told me quietly. "Because I'm not leaving you much of a choice in the matter."

He pounced on me, pinning my wrists above my head and straddling me on the couch. I began to scream, but he clamped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. "Shhh, Bella," he whispered. "You have to be quiet now. Someone will hear you."

I continued to scream as loud as I could muster, but the sound was barely audible behind his large, sweaty hand. My heart pounded and my breathing sped as I looked up at him in panicked, wide eyed terror. His eyes glinted maliciously as he loomed over me. It was disgusting, the way he looked at me; I could tell he was getting off by my fear. I began to trash wildly to push him off of me, but he was too heavy and much too strong for me to fight against him. My body tensed, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I braced myself for what was coming.

There was a loud _bang _as the heavy wooden door to Newton's office burst open. From the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood, I could tell someone must have kicked it in. The next thing I knew, Newton's body was being yanked off of me by an unidentified pair of arms. I looked up just in time to see Edward glaring at him with a positively murderous expression – jaw clenched, eyes burning, nostrils flared. I had never seen him so infuriated.

Edward had Newton's shirt collar grasped tightly in his fist, and his other fist drawn back behind his shoulder. Newton cried out in terror as Edward drove his fist forward, directly into the side of his face. Newton struggled, but Edward did not release him. He drew his fist back again, and this time smashed it directly into Newton's nose with an excessive amount of force. There was an audible, sickening crunch upon impact.

Newton let out an excruciating, high pitched shriek. Edward dropped him to the floor and stared down at him with a look of utter revulsion on his face. His stance had not relaxed, and his fists were balled up tightly at his sides. His entire body was literally shaking with anger. I half expected him to start ruthlessly kicking Newton's crumpled form, but his gaze shifted to me instead. Our eyes met, and his mask of rage immediately softened into severe emotion.

Edward stumbled toward the couch and dropped to his knees in front of me. He placed his hands securely on either side of my face. His eyes were wide and panicked. "Bella, are you alright?"

I found myself incapable of speech, so I merely nodded once.

"Did he hurt you at all?"

He was still searching my face intently, and I realized that I needed to say something to reassure him. I consciously forced my lips apart. "No," I whispered shakily. "No, I'm fine."

Edward let out a sharp exhale of relief, but he did not look convinced. He continued to hold my face in his hands. I could feel his fingers vibrating against my face; it was a strange sensation, and I realized with shock that it was a result of my own body shaking uncontrollably.

Over Edward's shoulder, I could see Newton's crumpled form writhing in pain, holding his face in his hands and screaming in agony. A steady flow of blood was leaking through his fingers. With great difficulty, he attempted to prop himself up off the floor. He raised his head and spit out what looked like a mouthful of blood. He looked up at us, his features twisted in rage. There was red smeared across his face, and his nose was very obviously broken. I cringed back from the sight of him, horrified.

"_You_," Newton seethed furiously, raising a bloody hand in Edward's direction.

Edward reluctantly tore his eyes away from me to face Newton with a positively livid glare. My breath caught in my chest as I took in his expression - I had never imagined that Edward could look so _terrifying_. His face was contorted with such savage fury that I half expected a snarl to rip from his throat.

Newton continued to prop himself up until he was in a sitting position. He wiped an arm across his face, smearing the blood across it. He glared back at Edward with a look of utter hatred. He raised his hand again. "You're fired," he rasped, pointing a finger in our direction.

I froze. Which one of us did he mean?

Newton grew impatient at my confusion. "Both of you!" he snapped.

Oh, god. This could not be happening.

"Mike," I put on my best attempt at a gentle, pleading voice, "Listen to me. You don't have to do this…"

Newton's closed his eyes in frustration and ground his teeth together. He held up a hand to silence me. "Get out," he whispered. His voice was quiet, but deadly.

"Please, I…"

"OUT!" he shrieked. "GET OUT!"

My entire body went cold as ice, accompanied by an increasing sense of numbness. I could feel my breakdown coming, and I wanted to be alone when it happened. I lunged forward off the couch and darted around Edward. He tried to grab my arm as I passed but I quickly yanked it away from him; he didn't need to see this.

My vision blurred as the tears I had been holding back began to spill over. An array of blurry shapes and objects flew by me as I headed for my desk. I went immediately for my purse, not stopping to grab anything else. Jasper stood from his desk and approached me with his arm extended in a comforting gesture, but I couldn't allow myself one ounce of leniency or comfort. I didn't deserve it. I backed away from him, and it was obvious my rejection had hurt his feelings. If only he knew the reason why. "I'm sorry," I whispered. My voice broke on the last syllable, and I turned away from him to flee.

I was hardly cognizant of my surroundings as I rushed to the elevator. I barely noticed the multiple sets of eyes that were staring at me, or even Jessica's gloating smile of triumph as I rushed past the front desk. I reached the ground floor, and stumbled out into the city street. The cold air stung the wetness in my eyes and burned in my lungs, but at least I was finally able to breathe. I practically ran down the street, desperate to escape. I had to get away from there before I exploded.

Loud, heavy footsteps followed behind me - They sounded almost like they were running. I knew immediately that it was Edward following me. I had no intention of stopping, but then I heard him call my name. My body reacted of its own accord, causing my knees to lock as I screeched to a stop. Still, I did not turn to face him. I was about to loose it, and I couldn't bear to look at him right now.

I heard him stop several feet behind me, but he did not approach; probably afraid of what my reaction would be. "Bella?" he said softly. His voice was afraid, timid.

I wheeled around to face him, and at first he seemed relieved. Then he saw the look on my face, and his expression fell. I strode quickly toward him and immediately started hitting him with all the strength I could muster.

"Why? _Why_? WHY!?" I screamed, beating my fists angrily against his chest. I may as well have been hitting my fists against stone; his chest was hard as rock. I expected him to try to grab my wrists, to hold me still, but he didn't. He just stood there, tall and stoic as a statue, and willingly took my beating. I felt myself slump forward against his chest as heavy sobs began to rise from my throat. There was no longer any fight left in me.

His strong arms wrapped tightly around me and held me while I cried. I buried my face in his chest, staining the front of his shirt with my tears. Once my sobs had quieted, I felt his fingers curve gently under my chin as he tilted my head up to face him. I looked up into to his eyes and was shocked to find that they, too, were shining with unshed tears.

"_Why_?" I whispered.

Edward's face contorted in frustration and pain. He opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it and immediately closed it again. He appeared to be struggling with some sort of internal battle. Then, without hesitation or warning, he grabbed either side of my face and smashed our lips together. The impact nearly knocked me off my feet, and I was immediately overcome by an overwhelming sense of inevitability. We had been on this path since the moment we met - Like two unstoppable objects moving toward each other at a constant speed, and we had finally collided. It was electric, explosive.

I'd had a few memorable kisses in my life, but this was the only one that literally left me breathless. I felt myself begin to swoon backward as Edward tightened his grip around my waist, holding me up. He held me so tightly against his body that I was literally suspended several inches in the air, my feet no longer touching the ground. He left one arm circled tightly around my waist while he freed the other to tangle his hand in my hair, anchoring my face to his.

He lips were hard and unyielding against mine, yet also exceedingly soft and gentle. Kissing Edward was a nearly indescribable feeling; it was not only intensely pleasurable, but it also felt _right_. In that moment I felt, for perhaps the first time in my entire life, that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Somehow, in the midst of this disaster of a situation, everything suddenly made sense. It was like heaven right smack dab in the middle of my own personal hell. I tangled my fingers in Edward's hair and clutched him to me, never wanting that feeling to end.

It did end, however. Edward lowered me gently onto my feet, and when I opened my eyes I was reluctantly forced to acknowledge reality once again. He placed several more soft kisses on my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids and my forehead before leaning back so that he could look at me. He stroked his thumbs across my tear stained cheeks and stared into my eyes for what seemed like an endless moment, as if he were trying to memorize my face . . . as if he were never going to see me again.

And then I realized that was _exactly_ what he was doing.

Edward gave me one last long look before he murmured, "Take care of yourself, Bella." With a pained expression, he turned quickly on his heel and strode back into the building. My empty hands physically stung as he tore himself away from me. I was overwhelmed by a complicated mixture of intense emotions; fear and humiliation from losing my job, lust from kissing Edward, pain from watching him walk away. I lowered myself shakily onto the sidewalk, no longer capable of standing. I fumbled around in my purse for my cell phone, a task made difficult by the convulsive way my hands were shaking. I pressed number one on my speed dial.

"Hello?" answered a musical voice.

"Alice," I sobbed into the phone.

"Bella?" her voice was alarmed. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

I found that I wasn't capable of forming sentences yet, so I sobbed her name again. "Alice . . ."

It didn't take long for her to catch on after that. "What happened?" she demanded.

"Can . . . can you come get me?" I sniffled.

I heard rustling and the jingling of car keys in the background. "I'm on my way – Don't move. I'll be right there," she promised. I didn't feel the need to question how she already knew where to find me.

Alice's voice faded into the background as the phone slipped through my shaking fingers. I didn't even bother to retrieve it. My body slumped limply against the sidewalk as I allowed the hysteric sobs to overtake me once again.

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**A/N: Please don't hate me!**

**I know the events in this chapter will be upsetting to some, but it was necessary in order to take the plot in the direction I wanted.**

**Never fear, this is not goodbye for Bella and Edward. He will be back after just a few chapters. I think Bella's character needs to take some time to find herself and get her life straightened out before they can actually be together.**

**People have also been asking about the Alice/Jasper dynamic. I haven't forgotten about them, no worries! I suppose I haven't mentioned them in a while because this is primarily an ExB story, but Alice and Jasper will have their reunion a bit later in the story. Promises!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: It was driving me crazy not updating this story, so I decided to take a short break from being a responsible college student.**

**Because, let's face it, this is where my heart truly lies.**

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BPOV

Once again, I found myself on Alice's couch.

She had left work early to come pick me up, and upon discovering me in my alarmingly decrepit state decided to close her shop for the entire day. I'd tried to insist that she just drop me off at my apartment and go back to work, but Alice refused to leave me alone. Secretly, I was grateful for the company. I wanted to put up a brave front, and I wanted to tell her that I was fine and that she shouldn't worry about me, but I couldn't seem to force the words out. The truth was that I was not fine, not even close; and as selfish as I felt to admit it, I needed my best friend with me - now more than ever.

Alice didn't force me to talk about what happened. She hadn't spoken a single word on the car ride home, or even since we had arrived back at her apartment. This was unusual for Alice; she generally wasted no time in harassing me until I told her exactly what was on my mind. This time, however, she didn't even ask; not once. Maybe it was because she knew I wasn't ready to talk about what had happened yet, or perhaps it was because she somehow already knew. Alice had a way of knowing things without people having to voice them out loud.

And so we sat in silence on her couch, with the TV on low in the background. I was curled next to Alice with my head resting in her lap. She pulled her fingers gently through my hair while humming a soft, melodic tune. Her voice was incredibly soothing; it managed to calm the convulsive way my body was shaking, but it did not prevent the tears from streaming noiselessly down my face and onto the small pillow beneath my head. It was the decorative kind; small and round and covered in some sort of silky material. Alice didn't even complain as my salty tears ruined the expensive fabric.

I had cried so much that day that it seemed almost impossible I had any tears left to shed. It came in stages – I would momentarily gain control of myself, and the crying would cease, and then a thought or a memory would unintentionally re-enter my mind and cause me to lose it once again.

It was still impossible to wrap my mind around how everything could have possibly gone so horribly wrong, all in one day. I had to admit, however, that it wasn't all bad. There were certain parts that I remembered with a sense of bittersweetness. That kiss, for example, was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. How Edward could have just walked away after a kiss like that was virtually incomprehensible. It was frustrating that there was still so much unsaid between us, but deep down I knew that moment had not been the proper time or place for those things to be said. Yet ironically, cruelly, it was the only time we had been given. And now it was too late.

My despair resurfaced as a fresh cry of agony ripped from my throat. Alice soothed me, rocking back and forth and shushing me gently. My sobs quieted eventually, and my eyes began to feel sore and very heavy. It had been a long, exhausting, emotional wrenching day. My body was exhausted from all the crying, and my mental capacities were completely spent. There was nothing I wanted more than to escape this harsh reality I had suddenly found myself living in. I willingly allowed my eyelids to flutter shut as I fell into a deep, restful sleep.

--

When I awoke, Alice's apartment was very dark. I was still on the couch wrapped up in a warm fuzzy blanket, but Alice was no longer with me. I propped myself up slowly, dazedly, and peered through the darkness. There was a soft yellow light peeking through the crack beneath the door separating her living room from her kitchen. I stood up slowly from the couch, wrapped the blanket around myself as I followed the light to its source.

I found Alice seated at the table in her tiny yellow kitchen, leaning over what appeared to be a portfolio with a variety of photo clippings. I came up behind her and quietly observed the photo which was presently consuming her attention. It was a deep blue party dress, strapless and tea length with a poufy skirt that flared out around the hips. The handwritten label at the bottom of the photo read "Vintage Chanel."

"Pretty," I murmured.

Alice squirmed around in her chair to look up at me. "Hey there, sleepyhead. Glad to see you've finally decided to rejoin the living."

A loud yawn escaped my lips. As I inhaled, I was hit by the strong, delicious scent of takeout food. My stomach growled loudly.

Alice grinned. "Hungry?"

"Starved," I admitted. My nose traced the delicious food scent over to Alice's kitchen counter, which was littered with dozens of small white takeout boxes.

"I ordered some Chinese a while ago," Alice continued. "Don't worry, there's still a lot left, and I made sure to get all of your favorites. There's no better remedy for a bad day than your favorite greasy, pseudo-ethnic food."

I had to smile at Alice's attempt to make me feel better. It was very sweet, and honestly, it was sort of working. After today's events it felt good to do something easy, normal.

Alice stretched up on the tips of her toes to grab a plate from her cupboard and proceeded to fill it with one item of everything she had ordered, which appeared to be the Peking Palace's entire takeout menu. Then she returned to the table and placed the overflowing plate in front of me with a fork. "Eat," she instructed.

I complied willingly, inhaling the food so quickly that it burned my throat. I was hardly able to swallow it fast enough. Once I felt full beyond capacity I pushed the plate away from me and leaned back into my chair.

Alice looked up again from her work. "Better?" she asked.

I nodded. I actually did feel better, now that I had some food in me. I felt at least strong enough to remain conscious for the time being. "I should call Renee," I sighed. My mother was always the first person I called after a bad day, aside from Alice.

"Probably a good idea," Alice agreed. "Where's your phone?"

"It's in my purse. I left it with my coat in the entryway."

"I'll get it for you," she offered, rising from her chair.

"Thanks. And, Al," I said, grabbing her wrist as she passed. "Thanks for everything. You really are the best friend a girl could ask for."

"I know," she said teasingly.

Alice danced off toward the hall closet. She was gone for longer than I would have expected, and I started to wonder what was taking so long. I turned when I heard her soft footsteps approach from behind me, and I found that she was holding not my purse, but rather a small scrap of white paper. Confused, I looked up at her face, and I immediately felt myself deflate as I took in her solemn expression. Her face was pale white. Her eyes were wide and very grave.

For the first time since I'd left the office this morning, a sickening sense of fear twisted in my stomach. "What's wrong?"

Alice's voice was barely audible. "I found this in your purse," she whispered. "It was sticking out from one of the side pockets."

She reached forward to give it to me, and I noticed that her arm shook violently as she extended it, causing the paper between her fingers to tremble like an autumn leaf. I snatched it away from her and immediately examined the offensive piece of paper which had caused her so much distress. At first glance, the object in my hand seemed relatively unthreatening; it was a thick, plain piece of white notepaper, folded perfectly down the middle. But my heart stopped as I flipped the object over – There, in black elegant script, was my name, written in a distinctive handwriting that I would know anywhere. I unfolded the piece if paper expecting a note inside, but all I found was a name and phone number.

_Tanya Denali_

_Little Brown Publishing_

_(123) 456-7890_

Alice was craning her neck to read the note over my shoulder. "What is it?" she demanded anxiously.

I found myself incapable of answering her, because even I myself was not entirely certain of the note's meaning. The woman's name was entirely unfamiliar to me, but I understood the reference to the publishing company, and it was easy to guess at the implications of what that meant.

This note was no omen; it was a life preserver.

But I couldn't bring myself to think about that, or its promises for my future. The only thing in my mind at that moment was Edward's face; the look in his eyes when he had left me standing on the frozen city street. Everything was suddenly so clear, and I felt like a fool for having been so incredibly blind and self-righteous. What I had perceived as abandonment was Edward's final attempt at protecting me; by giving me what he believed was the only thing he had left to give.

This realization hit me hard, and I was unprepared for its violent aftermath. It caused the proverbial fissure in my chest to crack open, releasing the flood of intense emotions that I had been so diligently repressing. I could no longer hold back the large tears that began streaming down my face; I felt fear, but also relief; excitement, and pain. But most of all, I felt tremendously guilty.

Edward had never abandoned me; not even at the very end, when I had rejected his help and pushed him away. He had willingly sacrificed himself, just to protect me. Now I would never see him again, and I prepared myself for what I knew would be a lifetime of regret - I would never be able to tell him thank you, or tell him how sorry I truly was.

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**A/N: Again, thank you all for being so understanding of my time restrictions, and for remaining so faithful this story. Next chapter should be posted within the next week or so (I'll be done with school by then), and it will not disappoint!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Ohmygosh. It's an UPDATE!**

**I had thought that four weeks off of school would be more conducive for getting things done, but it turns out that I am only able to write when under pressure. Go figure.**

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BPOV

At Alice's insistence, I spent the next few days performing our traditional "I got fired / I got dumped" festivities.

"You must _wallow_, Bella," she told me. "It's an important part of the grieving process."

Alice came over every night after work, bringing with her various assortments of takeout food, gallon-sized containers of Ben & Jerry's and enough beauty products to last a small salon for several decades. We sat dutifully on the couch, we painted our toenails, we watched our favorites on the classic movies channel, and to be honest, I did feel a little better. But at the back of my mind, I knew that these frivolous diversions were merely delaying the inevitable. I knew that no amount of wallowing could erase my guilt, because every night, I dreamed of Edward.

The dreams varied in length and intensity, but almost always they took place in my bedroom. Not in the sense that they were sexual; they were actually quite tame. We just lay there on my bed together, talking, or sometimes we would just lie there in silence and stare at each other. These were the dreams that dispelled any fear that I was forgetting him in our absence from each other. This dream version of Edward was surprisingly accurate; it was a perfect copy of his perfect face, his soft, tousled hair, even his voice. Most incredible were the eyes, which were so vividly realistic. Even in dreams, the mere sight of them was enough to set a burning ache deep within my chest.

Still, a full week went by before I looked at his note again.

The note, which I had been studiously avoiding for the past several days, was still secured to the corkboard on the wall behind my desk, and it simply refused to be ignored any longer. No longer able to defy its irrational and irresistible pull, I took the paper between my fingers. I traced over Edward's writing, studied every line and curve of his perfect script, and I wondered what he possibly could have been thinking when he wrote it. And then I remembered what he must have sacrificed in order to get that note to me, and I felt like a coward for having delayed this phone call for so long.

It was almost pathetic how my fingers shook as I dialed. The other line rang several times before I was met by a disconcertingly lovely voice.

"Hello?"

I paused. Her greeting was so casual. Was that how professional business people usually answered the phone?

"_Hello_?" the voice said again, this time sounding impatient.

"Um, yes. Hello," I stuttered, feeling like an absolute moron. "My name is Isabella Swan. I was given your number by . . . a friend of mine, Edward Cullen. He told me I should contact you."

What should I have said? A _coworker_? An _acquaintance_? After everything he'd done for me, those sorts of descriptions hardly seemed adequate.

There was a short pause on the other end, but when she returned her voice was friendly. "Yes, Edward said you would be calling."

"He . . . did?"

"Yes. He contacted me several days ago, saying I should expect a call from you. It seems he knew even before you did." I couldn't help but notice that she sounded entertained as she said this, and I understood why. This was so classically Edward; always one step ahead of the game.

"It would seem so," I muttered.

"Well," she continued thoughtfully, "Edward has already faxed over a copy of your portfolio, so I've had a chance to look at your writing. There's some good stuff in here. I'd like to meet with you so we can discuss things further."

My annoyance at Edward's presumption, for taking the liberty of faxing my portfolio without asking first, was overshadowed by my absolute joy that this woman apparently liked my writing. I tried very hard to keep my voice level and to conceal the sudden giddiness that threatened to burst through my cool and collected façade. "Would you like me to give you some time to look over your schedule?"

There was hardly a second's pause before her answer. "No, that won't be necessary. I think the sooner we meet, the better."

I was taken off guard by the sudden urgency in her tone, but sooner _was_ better, so I didn't question it. "How soon were you thinking?"

Another short pause, and then she gave me the last answer I expected: "Does today work for you?"

--

The end part of our phone conversation went by in a blur as the panic really started to sink in. I wasn't worried about the interview, or the fact that I had no idea what to expect. The bigger concerns in my mind at that moment had more to do with the fact that my apartment (and my state of being in general, really) was an absolute disaster . . . and the fact that I hadn't bathed in three days.

So immediately after hanging up the phone I proceeded to take one of the fastest (and the most thorough) showers of my life. I had hoped that the hot water would help to calm my nerves somewhat, but that proved to be a useless attempt. I brushed my teeth (twice), both times practicing those little tricks they teach you on how to have a successful interview. None of my work clothes had been washed or ironed in over a week, so I chose something casual that was clean and that I hoped looked at least somewhat presentable.

I drove downtown with my mind still in a state of panic, but I nearly stopped dead in the middle of traffic when I realized that the route to their office was the same one I used to take when I worked at the newspaper. It seemed like an omen; some sort of sign that I was doomed to fail once again. I shouldn't have been surprised, really; I knew they were owned by the same publishing company. But, as I would soon discover, Little Brown Publishing truly was nothing like the _Seattle Sun_; that much was clear from the very moment I walked through the door.

There was a thin, modest-looking girl seated at the front desk. She was pale, her light brown hair pulled back into a low pony tail, and her thick framed glasses sliding down her nose as she buried her face in the book she was reading. I recognized it immediately as _Wuthering Heights_. My copy had the exact same cover, and mine, too, was severely battered and beat up around the edges from extended use. I could easily understand why she was so engrossed; it had always been one of my favorites.

It took a few moments for the girl to notice my presence, and when she did she blushed deeply in embarrassment, as if she were a child caught doing something very naughty. I waited patiently, not wanting to embarrass her further, as she quickly tossed the book aside to smile up at me sheepishly.

"May I help you?" she asked politely in a small, mousey voice.

"Yes," I'm here to see Tanya Denali."

The girl nodded in acknowledgment, as if she had already been expecting me. "Third door on the right." She gestured toward a long hallway.

As I headed in the direction indicated, I was immediately struck by how very different this office was from my previous place of employment. As if the friendly receptionist had not been enough, the building's layout was equally as foreign; it was very light, and very open. Unlike the _Seattle's Sun's_ hectic atmosphere, this place was very peaceful and quiet, save for the loud, fast tempo music that pulsated from the office directly to my right. I turned toward the music's source, and somehow knew this to be my destination.

Unlike Mike Newton's expensive furnishings and dark woods, this office was eclectically decorated and filled with a variety of ethnic knick knacks, undoubtedly things that had been collected upon various worldly travels. Rather than the pungent smell of leather, this office was filled with a delicious, spicy aroma that made my mouth water. The walls were painted a warm buttercup yellow, and there were tiny colored paper lanterns strung across the ceiling. Aside from a very expensive-looking speaker system and a variety of enormous bookshelves, the walls were covered with various pieces of framed black and white photography.

In the center of the room sat an antique desk. It was very old-looking, decorated with an intricate series of carvings, but its beauty was detracted from by the massive array of disorganized papers strewn across its surface. Amidst the chaotic mess rested a slender pair of bare feet. They were crossed at the ankles, tapping along lazily to the music that blasted from the stereo. I followed the feet up to a pair of thin legs sheathed in faded, tattered jeans with holes in them, and then further up to find one of the strangest and most beautiful women I had ever seen.

She was wearing what could only be described as a peasant blouse; white eyelet lace that hung loosely off of one shoulder. I followed the path of smooth ivory skin up the thin column of her neck and then to her face. Her features were very thin and angular, yet still delicate; she had prominent cheekbones, a narrow jaw, and a tiny nose covered in a patch of light freckles. She wore little to no makeup; not that she needed any, what with her gorgeous pale skin and flawless features.

And then there were the eyes, so striking in their unusual beauty. They were some strange shade of hazel, almost amber in their coloring. They were complementary to the color of her hair, which was a soft strawberry blonde and styled into a massive array of wild corkscrew curls. It was the sort of style that undoubtedly took hours to perfect, but ultimately ended up looking natural and effortless.

The strange and beautiful woman looked up and smiled warmly, as if she already knew me. She immediately stood and crossed the room (in order to shake my hand, I presumed) but then surprised me when she pulled me into a tight hug. "You must be Bella," she cooed. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

I was confused by her warm greeting, and the way she said _finally_, but I decided to let it go_._ "It's, er, a pleasure to meet you too." My words came out sounding distorted because she was holding me so tight.

She giggled. "Sorry, it's just that I've heard so much about you; I feel like we're already friends." She released me, and then she gestured toward the chair in front of her desk. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

I sat, although I felt anything but comfortable. I was intimidated by the woman's beauty, and, honestly, somewhat frightened by her bizarre friendliness. And yet . . . I had to admit that I liked it here. This place was a much better fit for me than the _Seattle Sun_ ever could have been; this was a place I actually see myself _fitting in_ to.

Of course Edward would have had the foresight to realize this; of course he would have realized that what seemed like a tragic event would actually turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Drat him for making things perfect _this_ way.

The woman took her seat across from me, re-crossing her legs so she could replace them atop her desk once more. She settled back in her chair contentedly and smiled fondly at me. There was something strange in the way she looked at me, and I realized suddenly that it was because she was looking at me as if I were just a part of the usual scenery, as if I had always been meant to be there.

"So Bella, tell me about yourself."

--

It turned out there was very little I could tell Tanya about myself that she didn't already know. Edward had apparently filled her in on not only on everything that had happened between us, but also everything that _hadn't_ happened in addition. But before I could get angry or defensive, Tanya quickly explained that she and Edward had been friends for a very long time, and that they were very close. I tried very hard not to feel jealous, but it turned out there was no reason for me to be. I could tell by the way she spoke of him that perhaps she had always desired something more than friendship, but that he had never returned the sentiment. I decided not to pry, however, and to respect her privacy. She never pushed me to talk about my relationship with Edward beyond what she already knew, and I repaid her with the same courtesy.

Thankfully, we spent most of the hour discussing my writing. There was one piece Tanya seemed particularly interested in; it was an untitled, unedited and unfinished story that I wasn't particularly proud of, but she seemed to think it had the most potential. I could tell Tanya was a talented editor, and she was undoubtedly alerted to the fact that this was a very personal piece, largely autobiographical. This made me reluctant to publish it, but Tanya considered my emotional investment to be an advantage. As she explained it, "Great writing requires risk." I knew that she was right, and I couldn't discount the fact that risk had worked out to be an advantage thus far. If the girl in the story could find her way, then perhaps I could find my own.

We had agreed on the specifics of my contract, and while Tanya left for a moment to get the paperwork I decided to take a look around her office. I wasn't exactly _trying_ to be nosey, but I found myself very drawn to the pieces of photography that hung on her wall. There was one picture in particular that caught my eye, and I gasped aloud as I approached to take a closer look. There, on the wall beneath her various diplomas, was a framed picture. I could tell it was from her college graduation because of the cap and gown, but that wasn't what held my attention. There in the picture, with an arm around her shoulders and a ridiculous grin, was a younger version of Edward. He was thinner, less muscular, with more of a boyish look to his face, but I would recognize that smile, that face, and those eyes, anywhere.

Unexpectedly, tears began to prick at my own eyes. I felt ridiculous standing in the middle of this woman's office crying, but I couldn't help myself. It had been hard enough to push Edward from my mind merely being separated, but now being to forced to look at his face again, I could not control the overwhelming emotions that swept over me.

A throat cleared behind me, and I wiped my face with the back of my hand self consciously before turning to face Tanya.

She walked slowly over to where I was standing. "Do you miss him?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," I whispered without thinking. I immediately regretted saying it aloud, but then I laughed, because suddenly I felt ridiculous.

Tanya raised an eyebrow. "What's funny?"

"It's just that I felt this wave of humiliation when I admitted that to you, when I admitted that I missed him. It was as if I were confessing some embarrassing weakness. But it's not a sign of weakness when you miss someone, when you _need_ someone. It's just a sign of being human. Right?"

Tanya nodded, encouraging me to continue.

I laughed again, because it felt so good. "You know, Edward was far more perceptive than I ever gave him credit for. He knew me even better than I knew myself. He was right when he said I was stubborn to a fault. He was right all along about a lot of things, but I was too stubborn to see it. I could have saved both of our jobs if I had just listened to him, and now it's too late." I swallowed hard as the unshed tears began to make my throat feel thick.

Tanya shook her head. "It's never too late," she argued. "But don't you think you should be telling him all this, instead of me?"

I smiled a little sadly. "I doubt he's interested in anything I have to say right now."

"I know for a fact that's not true, Bella. Edward _willingly_ sacrificed his job and risked his whole reputation just to protect you. I've known the guy ten times as long as you have, and he never did anything remotely close to that for me."

I shook my head stubbornly, still unwilling to believe this impossibility which she was proposing. "Even if he did feel that way, it could never work. We're both too stubborn. We'd end up killing each other before our first anniversary."

Tanya couldn't help but smile reluctantly at that, but she still rolled her eyes. "Anger is a passionate emotion, Bella."

"Still," I insisted, "Even with that, even with the passion, I still don't see how this can work."

Tanya sighed exasperatedly. "Listen, Bella, you're a writer, so I know I don't have to remind you of all the various things that have been written on love. What most people tend to forget, though, is that the fact that most of it has been trivialized and romanticized it to the point of insanity. You want the truth about love? I'll give it to you: Love is messy, and complicated, and not all the way we see it in movies, or read about it in books. Being in love with someone doesn't mean that you think they're perfect, that you overlook their flaws. Being in love with someone means that you accept them, that you consciously recognize the fact that they are _not_ perfect and you love them anyway. If you can find someone like that, and someone who feels that way about you, then you've found something that most people never find in a lifetime. That something worth waiting for, that's something worth _fighting _for. Don't you think?"

I blinked a few times. "Wow. I can see now why Edward comes to you for advice."

Tanya gave me a radiant smile. I smiled warmly back, and I had the undeniable sense that there some sort of newfound companionship between us. And in that spirit and sense of trust, I decided to ask her the one question that had been eating at me for the past several days.

"So, what do I do now?"

Tanya furrowed her brow for a moment in deep concentration before breaking into a wide grin. "I have just the thing."

She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a white rectangular square of paper. She handed it to me with a very smug and conspiratorial smile on her face.

"_The Publisher's Ball_?" I asked, reading aloud the paper's elegant gold script.

"It's a yearly event held by the publishing company," she explained. "All the bigwigs get together in their formalwear to drink champagne and discuss their own brilliance." She smiled a little wryly at her own joke. "It's the perfect opportunity for you to talk to Edward; all we have to do is make sure you're both there at the same time."

I forced myself not to dwell on my irrational fear of dancing in public and instead decided to ask the more obvious question. "Have you considered the fact that neither one of us _works_ for the company anymore?"

"Edward is _technically_ still on the payroll at the _Seattle Sun_," she argued, "And you work for me now, so it's a non-issue."

"But how are you going to get _him_ there? Formalwear doesn't exactly sound like Edward's cup of tea."

"Easy," she waved her hand dismissively. "He's been moping all week, so I'll just use it as an excuse to drag him out of his apartment."

I was saddened by the thought of Edward moping around his apartment, but then Tanya said something that cheered me up considerably. "The invitation says you're allowed to bring one guest. Do you have someone you can go with?"

I pictured Alice jumping up and down with unadulterated glee when I broke the news, and I smiled. "Yes, I have someone. But do you think you can do me one more small favor? This one isn't even for me, actually."

Tanya eyed me somewhat warily. "That depends on what it is."

"Do you think you could convince a certain other blonde haired journalist to accompany you?" I smiled to myself, imagining Jasper's appalled expression. "I know he'll complain, but trust me, he'll be thanking us for it later."

Tanya grinned widely, automatically catching onto my plan. "I think I can handle that."

For the first time in days, I felt a swell of hope again.

"I can only think of one problem," Tanya continued, and then my hope immediately deflated. "It's a black tie event, formalwear only. Do you have a dress?"

A very smug conspiratorial smile of my own crossed my face. "I have just the thing," I mimicked her words from earlier as I dug into my purse for my cell phone, and then pushed number one on my speed dial for the second time that week.

She answered on the first ring, sounding slightly panicked. "Bella? What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

"Alice, I need you."

* * *

**A/N: Tanya's speech was inspired by something Rosette-Cullen once said to me. She's a smart cookie, that one. Definitely my own personal fan fiction muse. **

**As always, thank you for your patience. The next chapter shouldn't take nearly as long to finish. . . Bella and Edward must have their glorious reunion and I am not so cruel as to keep you waiting for it!**

**I'd also like to wish everyone a very Happy New Year. Have fun and be safe, kids!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: "Knock, knock." … "Who's there?" … "Orange." … "Orange who?" … "**_**Orange**_** you excited to FINALLY see an update on this story?!"**

* * *

BPOV

Alice made it over to my apartment in a record amount of time. I was already in the shower by the time she arrived; I just left the front door unlocked and told her to come straight in when she got there.

I padded my way barefoot out of the bathroom, towel drying my hair, and practically shrieked when Alice grabbed me from behind without even announcing her presence and dragged me into the living room. She sat me down hurriedly on the couch and my gaze flickered down to my coffee table, every square inch of which was now covered in beauty products.

She immediately went to work on my hair, not saying a word of greeting or so much as a hello.

"Hello to you too, Alice."

She didn't respond, but merely started yanking harshly on large sections of my hair and pinning them up into large rollers at the top of my head. I winced as the sharp pins dug uncomfortably into my scalp.

"You are going to talk to me eventually, right?"

"I am not speaking to you," she grumbled. "I'm mad at you."

I sighed. "Alice, I told you. I didn't know anything about this up until two hours ago! This was a complete surprise to me, too."

"I don't care whether you knew about it," she snapped. "I can't work this way, Bella! Events like this require weeks, sometimes _months _of preparation! You've given me a very small window of time in which to make you stunning."

"Aren't you supposed to say I'm _always_ stunning?"

She didn't answer again, but instead commanded that I close my eyes so she could swipe a thin line of black liner across my upper lids. She continued by applying several coats of volumizing mascara, pale foundation powder, rouge, and a layer of red lipstick which she finished off with some sort of glossy after coat.

I barely had time to recover before she pulled me to my feet once again, this time steering me in the direction of my bedroom. My closet was open and in shambles, with various items of clothing strewn across my floor from Alice's random plucking. There were also several large garment bags laid flat across my bedspread.

"Drop the bathrobe," Alice ordered, arms folded across her chest. Her pointed shoe made a muffled sound as it tapped rhythmically against the carpet.

I blushed. "Alice, you can't be serious."

Alice rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently. "I don't have time for this, Bella. Drop it."

I didn't argue with her, but I didn't drop the robe, either. I averted my eyes and looked down to my feet while playing awkwardly with the light blue sash around my waist.

Alice rolled her eyes again. "Oh relax, Bella. It's not like I've never seen you naked before."

I knew she could tell that I was nervous and that she was trying to distract me.

It was working.

"_When_?" I demanded seriously.

Alice laughed, seeming to lighten up a bit. "High school gym, remember? We had swim class together."

"Oh my God," I groaned, remembering. "That was so awful. I saw more of the female anatomy in that locker room than I _ever_ wanted to see."

Alice laughed again, and reached into one of the garment bags to pull out a long, narrow black dress. "Here, put this on."

I slipped the robe off with less embarrassment now and accepted the gown from Alice. I was immediately transfixed by the fabric's perfectly smooth and silky texture, and then balked when I saw its price tag. I gulped audibly; this gown probably cost more than I made in a month . . . _several_ months.

I suddenly had horrible visions of all the hideous ways in which I could ruin this gown – me tripping on a crack in the sidewalk and putting a huge rip in it; me taking a bite of shrimp cocktail and dripping cocktail sauce all over it . . .

"Alice, are you sure it's okay for me to borrow this?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Positive. Now try it on! I want to see how it looks on you."

I slipped the dress over my head, pulling it down until is was hanging straight on my body, and immediately flushed when I took in how much of my bare skin was showing both in the front and in the back.

"Um, Alice?"

"It's called a 'plunging neckline', Bella," she informed me, walking around to examine my body from a 360 degree angle. When she reached my front again, she began pulling and tugging at the sides of the dress's low neckline. She gave one particularly harsh tug that made my breasts feel overly constricted. I was surprised when they didn't pop right out of it.

"Yes, they _are_ attached."

"Hmmm," Alice mumbled, her brow furrowed in consternation. "I think your boobs are too big for this one. Next."

I couldn't help but laugh at that, because it was a compliment. And after all, if you're going to have someone comment on the size of your breasts, it might as well be your best girlfriend.

"That dress is definitely not the one for you," Alice mumbled, sorting through the garment bags. "But I think this one is."

She held up another garment bag and slowly pulled down the zipper, revealing an intensely beautiful couture creation, the likes of which I had never seen before . . . except for maybe in my dreams. It was all gentle curves, blue taffeta and gorgeous silk.

But then, it struck me suddenly that I _had_ seen this particular gown before.

"The vintage Chanel," I breathed.

"It's my baby," Alice beamed. "Truly one of a kind. Which is why I think you should wear it."

I reached out and tentatively stroked my fingertip across its subtle sweetheart neckline. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," she grinned, bouncing on her toes with excitement. "It's perfect. Now, take the other one off and try it on!"

I was about to reach out and accept the gown from her until she abruptly pulled it back and out of my reach. Her eyes narrowed into a shrewdly businesslike expression. "_But_," she continued. "There are conditions."

I waited patiently for her to continue.

"There will be no eating in this dress," she said, holding up a finger. "There will be no drinking," another finger. "And absolutely, positively NO tripping, stumbling, slipping or falling. Is that quite understood?"

I raised three fingers to my forehead in a very poor fake salute. "Yes ma'am."

Alice sighed, visibly more relaxed as she handed the gown to me at last. "Proceed."

I handed Alice the black dress while I shimmied the blue one up my waist. It hugged nicely around all of my curves and I felt it suck me in nice and tight in all the right places as Alice buttoned it up in the back. I gave the poufy skirt a little swish and smiled at her.

Alice grinned, clasping her hands together like a proud mother on prom night. "You're a vision," she sighed. "Now you have everything you need to go out and get your man!"

I felt myself pale a little at that as the full weight of what I was about to do finally started to sink in. Would Edward even be there tonight? And if he was, would he agree to speak with me? There so much I needed to tell him, so much I needed to explain . . . The butterflies I had been feeling in my stomach all evening were now fluttering upwards towards my throat, expanding exponentially in size until they felt more like giant, winged bats.

"Alice," I whispered, desperately trying to swallow back the enormous bat-like butterflies. "What if I can't do this?"

"Of course you can do this," she told me sternly, tilting my chin up so I was forced to look at her. "You're Bella Swan, god damn it! You are a beautiful, classy, intelligent, educated woman. This guy would be crazy not to want you. Now I want you to stop complaining, stop feeling sorry for yourself, and I want you to go out there and tell him how you feel. You're my best friend, Bella. I believe in you. And I know that if anybody can pull this off, it's you."

"I can do this," I said, not sure which one of us it was directed to. But my voice sounded more confident, even to myself this time.

"Damn right you can!" Alice said confidently.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, so very glad that I had my best friend with me, on tonight of all nights. Some day, I would have to tell Alice just how much she really means to me. But for right now, there was only one way I could think of to repay my debt.

"So," I shrugged nonchalantly, trying to keep my voice casual. "What are you wearing?"

Alice balked at me. "Me? You mean . . ."

I grinned at her. "Well, I can't very well go through the most important night of my life without my best friend and partner in crime by my side, can I?"

Alice gaped at me in open mouthed, wide eyed astonishment for a moment before she launched herself at me from the bed. The action was originally intended to engulf me in a tight hug, I presumed, but Alice took one look at the gown I was wearing, though better of it, and rocked back on her heels. Instead, she decided to take my hands in a firm grasp and jump vigorously up and down, squealing like a fourth grader at a boy band concert.

"Oh my God!" she screamed. "I have always wanted to go to one of these things; ALWAYS! Thank you so much, Bella. This is my dream come true!"

"Of course," I told her, giving her hands a tight squeeze. "There's no one I'd rather have with me tonight." I thought about that for a moment and then added, in a more solemn tone, "Plus, I don't think I'd be able to get through tonight without you with me."

I was a nervous wreck during the entire cab ride to the Seattle Hilton. I kept wringing my hands, tugging at the hem of my dress nervously, and Alice kept swatting my hand away every time I would compulsively try to touch my face.

Alice was a vision in the black dress that had been too small for me. It fit nicely around her small frame, subtly showing off her gentle curves. It made her look leaner, and taller, as if that were possible. The smoothed back, pin curled style of her hair and the tiny rhinestone clips she had placed in it were reminiscent of the 20's flapper era.

I decided not to tell her that Jasper might be there tonight. That would only maker her nervous, and then we would both be reduced to terrified, hyperventilating, quivering messes. And that wouldn't be beneficial to anyone.

We paid the cabby as we pulled up the hotel, and then thanked him before getting out. I took deep, calming breathes as we climbed the stone steps up to the entryway, focusing heavily on not falling in Alice's ridiculous silver shoes. I felt my heart rate increase as we entered the lobby, and I forced myself not to look around for Edward was we waited in line for entrance. We checked our coats, and then made our way together into the main ballroom.

Upon first glance my senses were assaulted and overwhelmed by a variety of colors, sounds and textures; the deep, rich tones of the ballroom's floor and walls, the shining crystal of the chandelier, the bright colors of ladies' dresses, the tinkling of glasses, the harmonized tones of a grand piano, the low murmur of laughter and voices. I focused intently on those things at first, but then I felt Alice squeeze my hand in reassurance, letting me know that she was with me, that she was there. With that, I felt the strength I needed to move forward.

I forced myself to raise my eyes in order to scan the crowd, and the first person I recognized was none other than Mike Newton. He was dressed in a gaudy, overpriced suit, engaged in conversation with some distinguished looking older gentlemen. Jessica Stanley was with him; fake blonde hair, unnatural boobs and all, and I couldn't help but smile at the irony in this situation. They both made eye contact with me at the same moment I was looking at them, and Mike immediately frowned. He downed the remaining champagne in his glass before grabbing Jessica by the arm and leading her further into the crowd.

I shifted my gaze back to Alice, but she was no longer looking at me. Her gaze was trained somewhere far across my room, and when I followed her line of sight to its destination I immediately recognized its target. Jasper was gazing back at her, looking dashing in a black suit and holding a glass of champagne, his mouth slightly agape. I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of happiness when I saw him, but he wasn't looking at me; his eyes were only for Alice. I smiled to myself, glad that they had found each other, and made my way further into the crowd . . . alone.

I immediately felt less confident without Alice by my side, but then I scolded myself for being such a baby. _You can do this, Bella_, I told myself fiercely, and I really did believe it for about a few seconds. But the longer I looked, and didn't find Edward, I slowly began to panic. Jasper had come, but what if Edward had not? Had he anticipated that I would be here, and not wanted to see me?

My sense of panic increased as I continued to scan the crowd. Noises blurred together, and faces blended into other faces until I felt so confused I had no idea what to do. But then I saw something that eliminated every trace of doubt or fear that I had in my body, something that set my world right again.

Because in that wide sea of eyes, I saw only one pair that I recognized.

Edward was staring back at me. I could feel his piercing green eyes looking directly into mine, even from across the room. Feist's "How My Heart Behaves" was playing on the grand piano; I loved that song, but I couldn't bring myself to concentrate on that at the moment. I was so transfixed that I barely noticed when my feet began to carry me forward, towards him. I didn't stop until I was finally in front of him, merely inches away. I could have reached out and touched him if I wanted to.

As if reading my thoughts, Edward reached out a hand to me, and I took it. His eyes turned darker as our skin made contact, and I felt every cell in my body turn to fire at his touch. Without even thinking about it, I reciprocated the intensity of his gaze.

"Dance with me," he whispered.

* * *

**A/N: I haven't forgotten about all of you, I swear! Allow me to use the next chapter as an opportunity to make it up to you . . .**

*** wiggles eyebrows mischievously ***


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **

**Annnddd… WE'RE BACK!**

**Let's see how Edward and Bella are doing at the dance, shall we?**

* * *

BPOV

I continued to gaze at Edward in a complete stupor; unblinking, unthinking, unmoving. Electricity seemed to crackle in the air, flowing freely back and forth between us and concentrated in the exact spot where our hands were touching.

My body reacted immediately in response to this skin-on-skin contact. I felt my eyes dilate and my breathing become labored as a warmth rose up into my cheeks. But this was not my usual flush of embarrassment; this sensation was spreading gradually, deep and slow and burning. I almost felt surprised when I didn't see sparks.

I can hardly remember even giving him my response, transfixed as I was by the way his lips moved and the intensity of his eyes and the pleasant way his hair fell across his forehead. I barely even noticed when his grip on my hand tightened, linking our fingers together. He walked backwards, miraculously not even needing to watch where he was going, and lead me to the center of a large crowd that had gathered on the dance floor.

I felt him take our hands that were joined and raise them so they were suspended alongside of us while his other hand placed itself gently on the small of my back. He held me closely, but not too closely - there were still a few good inches of space between us. This did nothing to lessen the intensity, however; I still felt an electric shock at every point where we were touching.

"Is this . . . okay?" Edward looked up and met my eyes again, and this time they were hesitant.

"Yes," I answered, equally as hesitant. "But I should warn you . . . I'm not very good at this."

"_This_ being?" He put a light pressure on my back so that our bodies were pushed closer together, our chests barely touching.

"Dancing," I whispered, feeling a telltale flush rise up into my cheeks. I was feeling very lightheaded suddenly; between my intense fear of public spectacles and this new proximity of our bodies I began to worry that I might faint or throw up or do something equally as mortifying to humiliate myself.

"Dancing is easy," Edward murmured softly. "It's all in the leading." And with that, he took our hands that were joined and used them to spin me around in a sudden circle, pulling me back to him abruptly. Shock undoubtedly painted my expression; I had never seen anyone actually attempt a move like that before, except for in old classic movies. Leave it to Edward to be the embodiment of all my fantasies.

"Really," he added in a soft, teasing tone. "You ladies have it far too easy."

And that was where the fantasy ended. He had to be joking, right? Prancing and twirling around in three in heels is _easy_?

"I really don't think . . ." I started to mutter, feeling the indignation start to rise already. Only Edward could get such a rise out of me, and I think he knew it. I hated that fact . . . and loved it desperately at the same time.

I was ready to retaliate with my comeback, but I took one look at Edward's face and realized there was no argument or antagonism there. In fact, he looked perfectly at ease. A few seconds passed before I saw his lips begin to twitch up at the corners, and then suddenly he was cracking up with uncontrollable laughter.

"What, exactly, is so funny?" I demanded, still irritated by his sexist little remark.

It took several seconds for Edward to calm himself. He took a couple of deep, calming breaths before he answered. "I am laughing because you're still _you_," he said, smiling down at me fondly. "I don't know why I thought one month's time could have changed that. But you're still Bella Swan; feisty, quick witted, and stubborn as ever."

_Stubborn_? How dare he…

Eh, who was I kidding? I could be pretty stubborn when I wanted to be.

Regardless, I retorted without thinking. "Well, I can see that you're still _you_,Edward Cullen; arrogant, perfect, and annoyingly articulate."

My mouth snapped shut immediately as I realized what I had blurted. I felt guilty instantly, kicking myself for not being able to just do what I had come here to do; _apologize_. But Edward didn't seem offended, or even upset. He just laughed again; a deep, resounding chuckle. And this time I couldn't stop myself from laughing along with him.

"Can we start over?" I asked finally, a smile still in my voice. I meant it to be serious, though; a sort of truce offering. "Please?"

"Alright," Edward allowed, his face relaxing into a peaceful expression. "Go ahead."

"Okay," I sighed, trying to put on my most serious, apologetic expression. "Edward, I'm really . . ."

I couldn't finish, however, distracted by the way Edward's shoulders were shaking. He was laughing at me again.

"Edward!" I scolded, unlinking our fingers so I could swat him across the shoulder. "Be serious!"

"I am sorry, Bella," he said, and he truly did look repentant. "This whole thing is just so surreal; being here, with you. I've . . . missed you, while you've been away."

I blushed, looking down to my feet. "I've missed you, too, Edward."

Edward's grip around my hand tightened, and I risked a glance up at him. I sucked in a sharp breath as I took in his eyes, positively sparkling with happiness. I felt my face grow hot again and ducked to hide it against his shoulder. It was too much for me to look into his eyes at that moment, but I still couldn't deny that uncontrollable desire to be close to him.

Edward's arms around me tightened, and I burrowed my face lightly against his tuxedo covered chest. I breathed in his delightful scent, and concentrated on the soft thud of his heart beneath the thin material of his dress shirt; I took small comfort in the fact that it was beating just as fast as mine was. We remained in silence for a while, merely swaying to the gentle music.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be here tonight," I murmured finally, trying to keep the conversation flowing between us.

"Neither was I," he admitted, and I could detect the genuine surprise coloring his voice. "I knew Tanya was up to something, that she had something up her sleeve. But I had no idea it would be something like this, something as magical as . . . you."

My heart soared at his affections, but then I immediately felt guilty again. I didn't deserve any of these glowing praises or heartfelt sentiments from Edward. I should have been on my knees, apologizing, and thanking him profusely for everything he had done for me. It would take a lifetime to make up for all the trouble I had caused him.

"Edward," I whispered, tilting my head up to face him.

"Yes, Bella?"

"Aren't you . . ." I searched for the right word. ". . . angry with me?"

His brow furrowed. "Whatever for?"

"Causing you to lose your job, for starters."

Edward shook his head sadly. "That wasn't your fault, Bella."

"How was it not my fault, Edward? You did what you did to protect _me_."

"Yes," he said defiantly. "And I would do it again."

Touched as I was by his courage, his selflessness, the dominant emotion which I felt in that moment was an overwhelming sense of guilt. Edward was too good, too full of integrity to have been burdened by my failures. I had really made a mess of things, hadn't I?

"I'm so sorry, Edward," I whispered, and I hoped he understood just how sorry I truly was.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, Bella."

I shook my head, fighting back tears, unwilling to agree with him but knowing this was one battle I couldn't win. So I simply whispered, "Well, we can both be sorry, then."

I felt Edward's arms tighten around me. "Okay."

We swayed in silence for a while, just holding each other, enjoying the moment and trying to prolong it for as long as possible. I closed my eyes and relaxed in Edward's embrace, happier and more relaxed than I had ever felt. Based on the heavy rise and fall of Edward's breathing, I could tell that he was feeling the same.

After several long, peaceful moments, my eyes slowly fluttered open. They scanned across the dance floor, and our little bubble of happiness burst as I took in one very familiar face. Mike Newton stood on the far end of the dance floor with Jessica, fakely tan and blonde as ever, hanging on his arm. They were both glaring at me with looks so frigid they could freeze water. Apparently they didn't take kindly to fired employees showing up at a company function.

Edward must have felt me tense in his arms, because he looked quickly down at my face, took in its alarmed expression, and then followed my gaze to where they stood watching us. Edward didn't seem alarmed in the slightest by their presence, but he did sigh, almost as if in resignation.

"Bella," he said softly, looking down at my face again. "Would you like to go somewhere with me?"

I blinked. Was he really asking what I thought he was asking?

"W-what do you mean, Edward?"

His eyes grew dark and very serious. He leaned forward so that our faces were very close together, noses almost touching. He spoke very softly. "Would you like to leave with me, right now?"

To my own surprise, as well as to his, I think, I answered without hesitation. "Yes."

"Good." He grinned, taking my hand and leading me away from the dance floor. "Let's go."

I searched around the dance floor frantically, trying to find Alice. I spotted her on the other far end, but she was wrapped so tightly around Jasper that it would have been impossible to catch her attention.

Edward dragged me a few feet further before I spotted Tanya, with her wild hair and a strikingly revealing gold colored gown. Her eyebrows raised in amusement as she caught my eye and she winked at me playfully.

Edward paid the coat check for our coats before leading me outside. He whistled loudly for a taxi, which promptly pulled up for us at the curb. He opened the door for me, taking my hand in a gentlemanly fashion and helping me inside. Edward gave the cab driver an address I didn't recognize, and I risked a tentative glace at him.

"Um… Edward?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"Where are we going?"

Edward grinned mischievously. "You'll see."

"You know I don't like surprises."

His grin widened. "I know."

"Can I at least have a clue?"

"I'm taking you to one of my favorite places in this city," he answered cryptically. "It's time we got to know each other properly."

* * *

**A/N: **

**Song for this chapter is Feist's "How My Heart Behaves".**

**So what do you guys think? Where could Edward possibly be taking her? I already know the answer to that question… but I'm not telling!**

**Review, please! I want to hear your theories.**


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